


The Baby Log

by BlackthornPyre4UrEnemies



Series: The Elsamaren Logs! [6]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies), Tarzan (1999)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst, Another slowburn challenge - Attempted slowburn for family not romance this time, Because Elsa and Honeymaren are married, Because Tarzan is smol and hurt, Crossover, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Chapters Will Be Labelled In The Notes, F/F, Family, Fluff, High Maintenance Elsa, Honeymaren Needs A Drink, Lets focus on the fluff, None planned for now, Ocassional sexual references, Other, Romance, Smut, With a sprinkle of angst and hurt/comfort, but you know me, fun family fluff, possible smut in the future, there is smut now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:21:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26987407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackthornPyre4UrEnemies/pseuds/BlackthornPyre4UrEnemies
Summary: Set about five years after The Wedding Log. Married life for Elsa and Honeymaren had been bliss. Even as the families around them expanded, they never wanted children of their own.That is, until they met baby Tarzan.Update goal: once a week.Reason for M rating: Currently no adult themes, however, heavily references an AU that has been established in previous M-rated fics so younger readers may find it difficult to follow just this fic. So to be safe it is M. Contains mention of painful physical injuries and descriptions of medical procedures. This is a WIP and may contain explicit language and sexual themes in the future. I will update the tags accordingly then.
Relationships: Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Series: The Elsamaren Logs! [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699342
Comments: 161
Kudos: 117





	1. Lullaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, it’s been a while. I know The Honeymoon Log is supposed to come out before this, but I just felt like writing this one instead. Fun fact: The Baby Log was started before The Wedding Log was published (feels like a long time ago), and I am excited to return to it. 
> 
> Be warned, as the title suggests, there is a genre shift with this new installment. This is more family than romance, and there may be more Elsa & Baby Tarzan and Honeymaren & Baby Tarzan interactions than you asked for. In other words, this is a highly specific sequel to my AU and very self-indulgent. Romance takes a bit of a backseat, but I promise you, this is still a Frozen and Elsamaren fanfiction! There will be lots of subtle references to the films.
> 
> This AU has such a special place in my heart and it feels so good to be revisiting all these characters again. It’s good to come home.

_**\- Prologue -** _

Elsa never wanted children. After all, she had grown up preparing herself for a life of solitude. And even being married to the love of her life did not change her opinion on this matter. Sure, she loved the _idea_ of children. They were adorable and fun and brought so much joy. But with the exception of her nieces and nephews, whom she absolutely adored, she never really had much of a desire to be around children, much less have them.

She’s had this discussion with her wife before. Maren was never against the idea of having kids. But she was never completely for them either. She was honest, and told Elsa she wanted them, but only if her partner wanted them too. If not, she was perfectly content, childless. And if she said she was content, Elsa believed her. Maren never lied. It was one of the greatest things Elsa loved about her.

Some people were born to be parents, like Anna, like Ryder, like Rapunzel. Some grew into great ones, like Kristoff, like Moana, like Eugene. Everyone they knew had joyful families with children. And Elsa and Maren had been happy for them. They had been happy for themselves too, just the two of them. The last five years had been bliss. There was never a yearning to hear the pitter-patter of little feet in their apartment, never a void in their hearts waiting to be filled by the joys of motherhood.

And then.

They met _him_.

It wasn’t so much that he filled some sort of emptiness in their current lives, for there was no emptiness to be filled in the first place. But they had an unexplainable connection, a bond that didn’t need words, right from the moment they met. He was meant to be in their lives, and them, in his.

* * *

**Day 1. Saturday Morning. Elsa's Point Of View.**

> Today, 0819H, **Anna:**
> 
> _Emergency, sis!!! Twins are very sick with the stomach flu. Catastrophic! The house smells. Of sick and shit._
> 
> Today, 0821H, **Elsa:**
> 
> _Aww, I’m sorry, Anna._
> 
> Today, 0821H, **Elsa:**
> 
> _I can watch them today if you need me. What time should I come over?_
> 
> Today, 0821H, **Elsa:**
> 
> _Although I wish you left out the bit about the smell in your text. I’m having breakfast._
> 
> Today, 0825H, **Anna:**
> 
> _Thanks, but it’s fine. Kristoff and I are with them. I need you to cover me for a foundation thing though. It’s the orphanage mum and dad built. I was supposed to visit today but I’m probably contagious right now. I know it’s the weekend and I dunno if you have plans, but the press is already on the way so I can’t postpone and it’s gonna look bad if there isn’t an Arendelle there._
> 
> Today, 0826H, **Elsa:**
> 
> _Sure. Please forward the details to my email. Will you be telling the orphanage I’m coming instead, or shall I?_
> 
> Today, 0826H, **Anna:**
> 
> _THANK YOU. You’re the best and I love you. And Leia just threw up on her dad. I gotta go. But I will call the orphanage._
> 
> Today, 0827H, **Elsa:**
> 
> _I just spoke to Maren. She can come with me. Can you let them know? And hope the twins feel better soon._
> 
> Today, 0827H, **Anna** :
> 
> _Ok! THANKS AGAIN and <3 <3 <3 <3 from us 4._

-

“You’ll handle the journalists, I’ll handle the kids. Win-win,” Maren plotted, as their car rolled up to the orphanage.

Elsa laughed.

“I’m not scared of kids, but you are of journalists, so it seems like this is a raw deal for me.”

“Take it or leave it. I’m not the one they want to photograph anyway.”

Elsa pretended to sigh and nod as she turned their car into the driveway, already seeing the slew of press vans parked along it. But inside she was grateful that Maren agreed to come with her in the first place. It can be stressful, even for Elsa, to act like an Arendelle.

-

“And what do you want to be when you grow up?” Elsa asked the little girl dressed in an oversized trenchcoat and deer hunter hat, magnifying glass in hand.

“Sherlock Holmes!” she exclaimed, picking up Elsa’s braid to study it under her magnifying glass.

The journalists laughed. The cameras flashed.

“A detective?” Elsa replied, “I think I know just the right person for you to talk to.”

Holding the girl’s hand in hers, Elsa led her over to Maren, who was currently at the corner of the playroom having a tea party with another group of kids.

“Sherlock Holmes, this is Detective Nattura of the Arendelle Police Department,” Elsa introduced.

Maren smiled at Elsa, before turning to the girl and giving her a small salute, “very honoured to meet the famous Detective Holmes. Would you like to join us? We could use your help in this tea party mystery.”

“I love mysteries!” one of the boys chimed in at the tiny table.

Maren grinned and pulled up a chair for Sherlock Holmes. Elsa’s heart warmed at the sight of how effortless Maren was around kids.

The press lapped it all up, directing all the lenses towards the tea party, seeming to momentarily forget Elsa’s presence.

“Any plans of having children of your own, Ms Nattura?” one of the reporters called out.

While they had taken each other’s last names officially after they got married, to simplify matters they kept to their maiden names for work and public engagements.

“Wouldn’t that be a mystery you’d like to solve?” Maren smoothly replied with a coy smile, keeping to her agreement with Elsa to keep their personal lives private.

The reporters fawned more over her at that. Elsa marvelled at how Maren was just so adaptable, and how through the years she had taken everything about being an Arendelle in her stride.

It was in that moment that she heard a crash come from the back of the orphanage, followed by a burst of shouting. Everyone turned towards the corridor, alarmed.

“Nothing to worry about, ladies and gentlemen,” the orphanage director hurriedly announced, before turning to her deputy, “would you mind checking on that? just in case.”

The assistant director nodded, slipping away. That was enough to return all the attention of the press back to Maren and the kids. But Elsa was undeterred. It wasn’t just about making a public appearance, part of these visits was always to make sure the charities the foundation funded were running smoothly.

“May I come with you?” she asked the assistant director.

He looked nervously at his boss. Both could not say no to Elsa, but the director tried anyway.

“It likely isn’t anything, Ms Arendelle. It must be the new admission. I must confess, the case is most… unusual, so we are still taking some time to sort everything out. But I assure you, we will manage.”

“If the circumstances are so unique, I’m sure we could all benefit from me having a look,” Elsa insisted, “if there is any additional aid required, I can then speak to my sister about it.”

The two staff exchanged a glance before the director nodded.

“This way then, Ms Arendelle,” the assistant director ushered to the door.

Elsa checked back with Maren to see her watching them from the corner of her eye. Maren must have heard the crash too and couldn’t let it go as easily as the press did. But she knew what Elsa needed from her and gave Elsa an almost imperceptible nod, before telling a joke to the kids and distracting the press further.

So it turned out that their roles had flipped and Maren was now dealing with the journalists as Elsa played detective and went to investigate on the new kid.

-

“He came in last night from the hospital,” the assistant director explained on the way, “age unknown, parents unknown. Found by an elderly couple on the outskirts of a village in Northuldra. Starving, dehydrated, and with a broken arm. He doesn’t look it, but bone scans indicate he is about eighteen months old. Doesn’t speak a word of Northuldran. Or any language we can gather.”

The story was already extremely intriguing.

“How did he get to Arendelle?” Elsa asked.

The assistant shifted uncomfortably, clearly finding the next part difficult to explain.

“I know this sounds hard to believe, Ms Arendelle, but doctors believe he may have been raised by apes.”

Elsa’s eyes widened.

“It’s just the way he behaves. No evidence of physical abnormalities that would impede speech and hearing, but no human language development. Very advanced though, motor-skills wise. But not very _human_ , his mannerisms. There are other clues too. A week before he was discovered, wildlife officers near the area discovered the corpses of a mass shooting of apes in the forest by the village. He shows up one week later with a broken arm, and an extreme fear of people and loud noises. They have been observing him, and he seems almost capable of looking after himself, like young apes are at this age. Officers suspect he would never have come to the village had it not been for his arm.”

Elsa’s heart broke even as she reeled with the insane tale the assistant director was telling her.

“After his condition stabilised, his team managed to contact a Professor Archimedes Porter from England, a triple expert in ape behaviour, human psychology, and paediatrics. Probably the only authority in the world on a case like this. But they needed funds to fly him up to Scandivania and stay while he worked with the boy, and only this orphanage has that kind of money. So, we took him in. Which brings us to today.”

They reached the door of what looked like a children’s hospital ward. It was Anna’s idea to build a small medical wing in their parents’ orphanage. The Olaf Arendelle Wing of the orphanage was the only place in Arendelle, Northuldra, the Southern Isles and Weselton, to support orphans with extremely high and specific health needs.

They heard the unexpectedly high-pitch yelping of a man from behind the door, along with more sounds of a scuffle.

“Professor Porter is with him now,” the assistant director explained to Elsa.

“I should probably warn you,” he added, nervous as he rested a hand on the door, “things may get… violent.”

Elsa swallowed, but remaining calm on the outside, nodded.

They opened the door to chaos. A tan, long-haired, half-naked boy was plastered on the head of a very small, elderly man, as the man hopped up and down, yelping in pain. The boy was trying to pull off the professor’s very large and very white moustache.

“Professor!” exclaimed the assistant director as he rushed forward to help.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” the tiny man insisted, speaking in english.

The assistant director stepped in anyway.

“NO! Don’t come near!” the professor exclaimed, “Be careful, he has a broken arm!”

The damage was done, however, as the moment the assistant director touched the boy, he leapt off the professor, tumbling to the ground unceremoniously. With one arm in a cast, he couldn’t break his fall. He landed on his broken arm, crying out in pain.

Elsa winced.

“Tarzan!” the professor called out, rushing to the boy.

The boy scrambled up immediately, crawling straight to the corner of the room, cowering as he sobbed. He hugged his broken arm to his chest.

“Tarzan…?” the professor said again.

He stepped towards the boy, but he backed further into his corner, and the professor stopped, keeping his distance.

Elsa didn’t know what _Tarzan_ meant, even though she knew her command of English was pretty good.

The professor sighed, turning to the assistant director, and speaking in flawless Arendellian, “it took me _hours_ to get Tarzan to come to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

The word, _Tarzan_ , again, even in Arendellian.

“Is that his name?” Elsa asked, “Tarzan?”

The professor looked over at her, startled by the presence of a stranger, before he turned back to the boy, obviously more concerned about his wellbeing than sorting out introductions.

“I don’t know. But Tarzan is the only thing close to a word he says,” the professor explained.

“I need to have a look at that arm though,” he continued to mutter to himself, “that was a pretty nasty fall.”

“May I?” Elsa asked.

She didn’t know where that came from. But she felt drawn to the boy, her eyes unable to leave his trembling form in his corner.

“Ms Arendelle, I’m not sure that’s a good idea… he doesn’t take well to strangers…” the assistant director warned.

“Arendelle?” the professor asked.

“Yes, this is Ms Elsa Arendelle. Her family’s foundation sponsors this orphanage.”

“I see. Thank you for having me here, Ms Arendelle. This is a most exceptional case. Most exceptional indeed.”

Elsa wasn’t listening to the two gentlemen by now, as she cautiously stepped forward towards the boy. Eventually she was in his peripheral view and he stopped crying, looking up at her with wide, frightened eyes.

Elsa chanced a step forward. He froze, looking even more terrified, if it was possible. Deciding not to push it, she sat down where she was, eyes fixed on his throughout. She gave him a small, gentle smile. He didn’t move, although his gaze lowered to follow hers as she sat.

“And you say he came from the Northuldran woods?” Elsa asked the people behind her.

“Yes.”

“Near a village? A Northuldran settlement?” Elsa continued.

“Yes.”

“Would you say there would be occasional campers, where he was found?”

“I… I suppose so. Local campers, most probably.”

She would try this then. There was a chance he might recognise it. He might even associate it with the warmth of a fireplace. In a soft voice, she began an ancient lullaby in her mother’s Northuldran tongue, not once taking her eyes away from his:

_Come stop your crying  
It will be alright  
Just take my hand  
Hold it tight_

She held out a hand to him, offering it for him to take if he wanted. She continued:

_I will protect you  
From all around you  
I will be here  
Don’t you cry_

Tarzan’s breathing was slower now, and Elsa could feel him becoming less afraid. She continued to smile up at him. Slowly, tentatively, he crawled to her, on three limbs given that an arm was in a cast, before he squatted beside her.

“Fascinating,” the professor whispered behind them.

Elsa continued.

_For one so small  
You seem so strong_

Very gently, Elsa ran the tip of her finger down the bridge of his nose as she continued to sing. He didn’t protest, eyes crossing as he watched Elsa’s finger.

_My arms will hold you,  
Keep you safe and warm_

Her finger reached the tip of his nose and he reached up with his uninjured hand to grab onto it. Elsa’s heart leaped. Her voice trembled:

_This bond between us  
Can’t be broken  
I will be here  
Don’t you cry_

Behind her, she used her free hand to beckon the professor over, pointing to Tarzan’s cast. He got the message, hurrying over to examine him while he was distracted.

“He’s okay,” the professor heaved a sigh of relief.

Elsa’s smile widened, nodding, as she continued to sing to the boy.

_'Cause you'll be in my heart  
Yes, you'll be in my heart  
From this day on  
Now and forever more_

Elsa brought his fist that was around her finger to her lips, giving it a featherlight kiss. Tarzan was entranced. She met his eyes again.

And in it, she saw a multitude of emotions: Fear. Power. Wildness. Vulnerability. Most of all, incredible strength.

In that moment, Elsa _knew_ him, understood him, saw herself in him. She didn’t know how. She couldn’t explain why. But from that moment, Elsa realised that while she never wanted to be _a_ mother, she now wanted to be _his_ mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elsa and her impulsive, spur-of-the-moment, life-changing decisions. I would argue that it’s a canon personality trait, isn’t it?
> 
> Don’t @me asking why Elsa didn’t sign the Frozen 2 lullaby. She will sing it in this fic. But of course it HAS to be a duet with Maren. That scene is the reason why we’re in the Elsa/Honeymaren tag in AO3 after all.
> 
> Also I guess this is a bit of a Tarzan fanfiction now, so it’s only apt I threw in his mother’s lullaby as well.
> 
> Cheers!  
> Blackthorn


	2. No Lies

**Day 1. Saturday Evening. Maren’s POV.**

Elsa had been quiet since they left the orphanage. They were now in the car, and Maren was driving in the general direction towards their apartment, but pretty soon she was going to need directions from Elsa about their destination.

“So… where do you want to go for dinner?”

“Hmm?” Elsa was not listening.

“You said you’re buying me dinner for accompanying you to this thing. Have you figured out where?”

“Yeah let’s go there,” Elsa said, distracted.

“Where?”

“Huh?”

Something was bothering her. Most likely it had to do with that crash at the orphanage. She’ll ask about it later.

“Shall I cook?” Maren offered.

Elsa heaved a sigh of relief at that, leaning her head back on the headrest, “actually, that sounds perfect.”

Under other circumstances Maren would have thought nothing of this response, as Elsa was usually exhausted from all the small talk after her public commitments. But Maren had done most of the heavy lifting this event, so Elsa shouldn’t have been feeling this way.

Regardless, she will get to the bottom of this.

After dinner. Maren was starving.

-

“Wait, so they think he was raised by apes? That’s impossible!”

“You have to see him to believe it. He’s barely a year and a half and he was climbing all over Professor Porter. With a broken arm.”

“Woah.”

“It’s just so upsetting. I can’t even begin to imagine what he’s been through so far.”

Elsa looked forlorn, as she stared at her pasta, twirling and retwirling the same few strands again and again. This case at the orphanage really seemed to have affected her. Maren could see why as the story Elsa was telling was painful.

“What do you think happened to his real parents?”

Elsa shrugged.

“They don’t know much yet. Authorities are still combing the Northuldran woods to see if there are any signs of them. But they’re almost certain his parents have died. Given the condition of the boy when he came, they suspect that he hasn’t been cared for by humans for more than a year.”

“Man….”

Maren thought about it for a while, detective-mode kicking in.

“Our police would have been involved. Now that he’s transferred over to Arendelle the Northuldran police must have handed over some information. The orphanage isn’t in our precinct, but I can go to work on Monday and find out who’s working on it… see if they know anything else?”

Elsa perked up at that, the first time the whole night.

“Maren, that’s a great idea! You should ask to be on the case. You’re Northuldran, I’m sure they could use your help!”

Elsa stopped at that, surprised by her own enthusiasm.

“That is, I mean…” she sheepishly added, “only if you’re keen. It’s your job. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

Maren smiled.

“It’s fine. I want to help too. I’ll speak to Yelana on Monday, see what I can do. But Elsa, this isn’t just to satisfy your curiosity, right? Because if you want me on board just to know what happens, I don’t know how much I’ll be able to discuss with you. When I’m on the case my responsibility will be to Tarzan. There are confidentiality clauses with these things.”

“Of course, I understand,” Elsa nodded, still looking extremely excited at the prospect of Maren being more involved in the boy’s case, “you don’t have to tell me anything if you can’t. I just want to make sure he receives the best help.”

Maren studied Elsa seriously.

“You really care about this boy, don’t you?”

Elsa nodded, but looked nervous and said nothing further in response.

-

Elsa was elsewhere the rest of the night, answering Maren with a word or two, not paying attention to the show they were watching. And she was the one that chose tonight’s programming. She had decided on this extremely catty fashion design show after Maren forced her to sit through a true crime documentary with her last night.

Maren turned the tv off, turning to face her.

“Hey! I was watching that!” Elsa complained.

“Oh yeah?” Maren challenged, “who did Bruni just eliminate?”

“The… the…” Elsa floundered, “I dunno, the girl with the green hair! The trainwreck.”

Maren laughed.

“Elsa, she won the challenge.”

“What?”

Elsa looked indignant at the outcome of the episode.

“Yeah I figured you weren’t really watching when I didn’t hear any protest from you when they announced the winner.”

Elsa crossed her arms, trying to maintain her dignity as she got up from the couch.

“Whatever, I’m going to bed.”

“Aww… Elsa, I’m sorry! Come back, you can choose what we watch next!”

-

Elsa wasn’t asleep when Maren climbed into bed. She could tell, because Elsa was lying on her back, facing up at the ceiling. Elsa always slept on her side.

“This is a spoiler, but I think you’ll like to hear it anyway. Green-haired girl got kicked out the next episode. She _painted_ her model instead of bothering to design anything.”

Maren chuckled to herself, secretly enjoying Elsa’s show.

“Maren.”

“Are you mad I watched the next episode without you? I did ask you to stay and watch, you were the one who left. But if you ask nicely, I’ll watch it with you again tomorrow.”

Bruni’s and the judges’ mortified expressions as the painted nude model walked down the runway was something she could watch again and again.

Elsa didn’t reply for a while, and Maren laid beside her, waiting. She knew to give Elsa space. Elsa was easily overwhelmed, even when it came to affection, which was what Maren wanted to shower her with at that moment. But she held back for Elsa’s sake and it paid off, for soon Elsa opened up.

“No lies, okay?” she suddenly asked.

It was a promise they had made to each other since the beginning of their relationship.

“No lies,” Maren agreed, inviting whatever it was that Elsa wanted to ask her.

“Are you happy, Maren?”

_What the hell?_

That made Maren nervous. It was something they never asked each other. They just _knew_. It was one of the few things in Maren’s life she was sure about. Or at least she was, until now.

She turned to her side so she could face Elsa.

“Perfectly happy,” she replied seriously.

Elsa turned her head to face her. She wasn’t smiling.

Maren gulped.

“Are you…? Happy?” Maren asked, slightly afraid.

She could see from her wife’s change in expression that Elsa realised her question had made Maren worried. Elsa gave her a genuine smile.

“Of course,” she replied, leaning in to give Maren a kiss.

Maren felt herself relax, kissing Elsa back.

When they broke apart, Elsa asked again.

“Would you change anything?”

“Absolutely not,” Maren replied confidently, feeling reassured.

That didn’t seem like the right thing to say, and Elsa frowned. But Maren was telling the truth.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Maren probed.

Elsa seemed deep in thought, before she shook her head.

“Can I tell you when I’m ready?” Elsa whispered.

Maren smiled, pulling her in so that Elsa settled against her chest. It was another thing they had set in stone since the beginning of their relationship. No lies, so there was trust when there needed to be secrets between them.

“Of course,” Maren nuzzled against the top of Elsa’s head, “only when you’re ready. Always.”

“I love you, Maren.”

“Love you too.”

-

**Day 2. Sunday Morning.**

Elsa was already up by the time Maren woke up the next day. She padded to their living room to see that Elsa was fully dressed, pacing up and down.

“Uh… did I forget any plans?” Maren asked, racking her brain to see if there was some place they were supposed to be, wondering if she had overslept.

Elsa spun round at the sound of her voice, startled by her presence. Whatever was bothering her last night obviously hadn’t gone away with sleep. Maren was itching to know more, but she let it be for now.

“Coffee?” Maren asked, walking to the kitchen.

“Already a pot brewing. And there’s an omelette in the pan for you,” Elsa absentmindedly replied, starting to pace again.

“You. Are. The. Best.” Maren sighed.

She poured herself a cup of coffee before turning around to watch Elsa. Elsa nodded to herself, as if to gather her courage, and she moved to pick up her bag by the door, as though she wanted to go out, before she placed it back down and turned back to the living room.

Maren took a sip of her coffee as she watched her pacing wife.

“Going somewhere?”

Elsa stared at her for a while, before -

“How do you think Tarzan’s doing today?” she blurted out.

So _that’s_ what’s been bothering her. Or rather, _who_. She had an inkling that that was it since last night.

“I don’t know,” Maren admitted.

“It’s a Sunday. Do professors work on Sundays? If Professor Porter isn’t with him, he might not be doing so good. I don’t know if he is close to anyone else at the orphanage. If there’s no one there with him I’m not sure if he’ll touch his food… or if he’ll comply with the other doctors…”

Elsa was rambling as though she knew everything about this boy. It was a curious sight to behold.

“Hmm… I guess we could… maybe call the orphanage and check?” Maren suggested.

Elsa’s face fell, disappointed that Maren had suggested something so reasonable.

“Yes, yes I suppose we could.”

Maren looked at the fully-dressed Elsa, the bag by the door, and the omelette in the pan Elsa had made in advance for her.

“You want to go to the orphanage, don’t you?”

Elsa’s eyes snapped up to meet hers, as though Maren had just called her out.

Eventually, Elsa gave a small nod.

“Would it be weird?”

“Not at all,” Maren shook her head, “not to me, at least. Look, you obviously care a lot about the kid. I think it’s fine if you want to check in with the orphanage, just to ask if he’s okay. Don’t think anyone at the orphanage would find that weird.”

Elsa appeared to be trying to convince herself that Maren was right.

“Unless you’re worried they’ll think you want to adopt him?” Maren casually added, foolishly thinking the matter was resolved as she turned to her omelette.

Elsa froze like a deer in headlights.

Maren froze too, nervous at Elsa’s unexpected reaction.

_Wait, what?_

“You… don’t want to adopt him, right?” she asked cautiously.

“Why would you ask such an outrageous…” Elsa tried to laugh, running her hands through her hair, not answering the question, “I’ve only met him once. And besides…”

Elsa shook her head to clear her thoughts.

“Anyway, I should go…” she hurriedly added, picking up her bag and dashing out the door.

_Huh._

Maren’s first instinct was to run after her. But then she remembered her promise to let Elsa tell her when she’s ready. Maybe this was something Elsa had to sort out herself first.

And it was also easy to forget that her wife had bolted out the door, as Maren was now feeling a little unsettled herself too, shocked by this new revelation. Surely, Elsa was not thinking about _adopting_ a child? They had talked about this. Elsa always said no. So, _surely not…_

_… right?_

-

She was still staring at her omelette, unable to stomach it, as she mulled over the frightening possibility of Elsa suddenly wanting to adopt a child. Maren had wanted kids, but she was completely truthful when she told Elsa she was content without having any. Why this, all of a sudden? And why that boy? Indeed, it was a very sad case, but it was also a very difficult case. What was going on in Elsa’s mind??? It was driving Maren nuts.

As if on cue, the door slammed open again and Elsa reappeared, panting hard.

“You’re back from the orphanage so soon?”

“I haven’t gone. I came back to get you.”

Maren frowned at her, perplexed.

Elsa closed the door behind her, taking a deep breath as she turned to face Maren again. She looked finally ready to talk to Maren.

“No lies?” Elsa asked again, completely serious.

“No lies.”

“Maren. I’m going to be completely honest here, okay? Like we promised. Even if I know I sound totally out of my mind. And likewise, I expect you to tell me how you feel about this.”

Maren nodded, and Elsa started to pace yet again, looking very nervous as she rambled on.

“Since we came back from the orphanage… I… well, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Tarzan. I can’t explain it to you because I don’t even know why myself.”

_Oh, gods above._

It seemed like Maren’s instincts about what Elsa was fretting about were right. She was starting to freak out, but she let Elsa continue.

“But Maren, I feel this… this…. _bond_ with him. And yes, when you asked me just now, if I have thought about… adopt-adopting him… I can’t lie to you. I have. Crazy, right!”

_Ohmygosh._

“And then I say to myself, don’t be crazy, Elsa! You’ve only just met him. You don’t know a thing about him! But who knows anything about their son when they first have them anyway?”

_Son?!_

Maren’s ears rang with that word.

Elsa threw her hands up in the air.

“And you see? ‘ _Son’_. Gosh, Maren, in my head I’m calling him my _son_! It’s absolutely insane. And so I figured, I’ll go see him. I have to. And then maybe I’ll know what this is all about.”

Maren was too shocked to do anything other than grip the coffee mug tightly.

“And then I was driving, and I was almost there. And the closer I got, the surer I was about exploring this possibility of being in Tarzan’s life. Then it hit me, if I was this serious, I couldn’t do this alone! You’re my _wife_ , you would have to be in on this too. So I u-turned immediately to come get you.”

Elsa whirled round to face Maren, eyes widening as she registered the panic that must have been evident on Maren’s face. Elsa continued, her voice high-pitched in her anxiety.

“But as I’m speaking to you now I’m realising that you must think I’ve completely lost my mind and you’ll tell me to stop this nonsense and then I’ll never get to see Tarzan again and who knows what will happen to him and maybe he’ll never - ”

“Woah, woah… Elsa… slow down!”

Elsa stopped in her tracks, breathing hard.

“Would you take a seat?” Maren asked, forcing herself to remain calm.

There was so much to process. Maren waited until Elsa sat across her, before starting with what was most obvious to her, as she tried to work out the rest of her feelings.

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“You don’t?”

“No. And I’m grateful you’ve decided to let me in. Of course, I’m not going to stop you from seeing the boy again.”

There, the simple stuff laid out. Elsa closed her eyes and let out a long breath of relief. Maren took a deep breath too.

Now to the difficult part.

“I see your point. I _do_ see how it’s possible to meet him once and feel that sort of connection. Really, I do. After all, anything’s possible, right?” Maren began diplomatically, shrugging as she gave her wife a small smile.

“But…”

Maren swallowed, before continuing.

“No lies, right? I’m scared. And sceptical. And I think there’s a possibility you might be drawn in because of the extraordinary circumstances of this case. I’m also not sure if you are seeing how big a commitment this is. Elsa, we’re talking about _motherhood_. Responsibility over a little boy. Most crucially, that little boy’s wellbeing is at stake too, and there are professionals to take care of that.”

She worried if she was going to hurt Elsa with those words. But to Maren’s surprise, Elsa nodded, agreeing with everything she’s just said.

“I’ve considered all that, Maren,” Elsa said, even beginning to smile at her, “and I’m so grateful you are thinking about all these too, without just shutting me down.”

Maren breathed a little easier. She could see Elsa relaxing too.

“You know I will never do that,” Maren replied.

She reached over to squeeze Elsa’s hand. Elsa squeezed it back.

“I’ve considered everything you said. And I still am sure about having Tarzan in my life.”

“I see,” Maren acknowledged, nodding her head.

They enjoyed a comfortable beat of silence, letting all the heavy emotions settle.

“So… shall we go over to see Tarzan?” Maren asked.

“Do you want to? You can say you’re not comfortable, you know. Especially now that you know the full extent of how I feel about his case. This… moving forward, we have to make these decisions together.”

“I want to come with you. It’s clear you’re serious about this, Elsa. And if there’s a chance that this boy could really be your… uhm, I mean, our… our son, I want to meet him too.”

Maren had stumbled over saying that a boy she had never ever met could be her son, but she could feel excitement building as she opened herself to the possibility.

However, most importantly, Maren remembered, there was a young boy’s life to think about.

“But Elsa,” Maren began, trying to let her down easy, “no matter what. No matter how we feel, how much we want this, we’ll listen to the professionals, and do what’s best for Tarzan, okay? So if they say he’s not ready to meet us or have us in his life… because let’s face it, he will have a lot of therapy to undergo and we’re total strangers to him… we’ll back off… alright?”

Elsa smiled warmly at Maren, heartened by Maren’s rational response.

“I know. Of course. Only what’s in the boy’s best interests,” Elsa sighed, “Maren, you’re amazing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Honeymaren Nattura. That's all I have to say today.
> 
> Cheers!  
> Blackthorn


	3. Koala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not learn anything about the adoption process from this fic, I didn’t do my research.
> 
> One of you asked some wonderful questions last chapter that I want to address here:  
> How old are Elsa and Maren? Quarantine follows Frozen 2, so they were 24 then. Engagement = 25, Wedding = 26, so that makes them ~31 years old in Baby.
> 
> I am very surprised by the next two questions, because they involved the (very few and sparse) plans I actually mapped out for this fic:  
> What's elsa designing right now? Nothing interesting at the moment, but I have a COOL project planned for her.  
> What case is maren working on? Nothing interesting at the moment, but Tarzan's case will be part of the story. Also I have a plot idea for maren's job, and I haven't decided if I will use it.  
> Hint: It would still follow an arc in Frozen, as with everything in the Logs.  
> I guess I didnt answer your question, but I am so happy you're curious! I hope you stay tuned <3

**Day 2. Sunday Afternoon. Elsa’s POV.**

She had been extremely anxious to get to the orphanage, but now that she was here, in the parking lot, she didn’t know what to do with herself. Maren was outside, leaning against the side of the car as she patiently waited for Elsa to gather the courage to get out of the passenger seat.

It was supposed to be a simple visit, sort of a reconnaissance mission, just to see how Tarzan was doing, made sure he was doing okay, and then come home again to sort out her feelings. But now she had let Maren in and everything just carried more weight.

Everything she said to Maren was true. She was serious about this, about exploring the possibility of being a more constant presence in Tarzan’s life. It was just that after sharing it with Maren, it had made her feelings more real. And it was such a big responsibility with a lot of uncertainty and Elsa wasn’t sure if she was ready for it.

Her door opened and Maren peeked in, resting an elbow on the top of the door as she leaned down to meet Elsa’s eyes.

“You okay in there?” she asked with a small smile.

Elsa nodded.

“Sorry, I just need some time to figure out what we’re going to say when we go in.”

“Sure,” Maren agreed, “or I could go and ask about him and report back to you?”

That was a good idea. But not what Elsa wanted. Elsa wanted to see Tarzan.

“Thanks Maren, but no, we really should go in. I-I want you to meet him too.”

“Okay then, when you’re ready.”

Looking at Maren gave her courage.

“I’m ready now,” she said, more to herself as she got out of the car, “let’s go.”

Maren laced her hand in hers the moment she was out, before saying “alright, let’s do this.”

-

The directors were off as it was a Sunday, and the staff on duty had to call up one of them to check if Elsa and Maren had authorization to enter Tarzan’s ward.

Elsa spoke to the director over the phone.

“Ms Arendelle? What brings you to our orphanage on a Sunday?”

“We’ve just been really worried about Tarzan, the new boy from Northuldra. I was wondering if we could visit him, just to see if everything’s alright.”

“Would that be all? Just to check on him?”

“Yes, for the moment.”

“From outside his room? Or do you wish to interact with him?”

“Whichever’s better for him.”

“I’m glad you said that, Ms Arendelle. That’s because I don’t wish to disappoint you, but we have rather strict visitation rules at this orphanage. Outside of the very rare press days, only prospective parents are allowed visits. It’s all to protect the children. We don’t want to confuse them or give them false hope.”

“The thing is,” Elsa continued down the phone, “we’re not really sure if we’re prepared to …”

“Ms Arendelle,” the director cut in, rather firmly, “these children are emotionally fragile. Their wellbeing is our outmost priority. We simply cannot allow, and forgive me for the harsh choice of word, _tourists_ who come just to play with the children.”

Elsa could see why Anna hired someone like her to protect the orphanage.

“I see your point, ma’am. It’s just that my wife hasn’t met Tarzan, so it’s hard for us to say…”

“And would she like to meet him as a prospective parent? Would the both of you like to be granted visitation on the basis of being considered as prospective parents?”

Elsa swallowed, feeling slightly clammy.

“Could you hold on, please?”

She turned to Maren, putting the phone against her chest.

“Maren, the director wants us to decide now if we want to be considered prospective parents for Tarzan. I know it’s a bit sudden but - ”

“It’s not. I get it. They don’t want us toying with a child’s emotions,” Maren replied immediately.

“Yes, Maren. How did you…?”

Maren smiled.

“I’ve worked with orphanages before. And foster families, child protection people, et cetera. All part of my job.”

“So you knew this before coming down here?”

“Yes, of course.”

Maren scratched the back of her head, perplexed at Elsa’s hesitation.

“Wait, didn’t you? After your big speech in the apartment? You were so serious. It’s why we came down here, isn’t it? To see if we could possibly be a good fit as a family for Tarzan?”

Elsa actually didn’t know the visitation rules. All she wanted was to check on Tarzan, after all. But now that the director and Maren had explained it, it made so much sense. Realising that Maren already knew how serious a visit was, Elsa was also surprised that Maren agreed to come in the first place.

“I actually thought …” Elsa admitted, “I thought we were just coming to meet him, you know, more informally, and see how we feel about all this.”

“But you’re serious about this, aren’t you? I would never have agreed to this if you weren’t, actually.”

“Yes, I’m serious. But Maren, what about you? You’ve never met him… how could you know…”

“Elsa, I love you. Everything that comes with you. So if you think this kid could one day be yours, it means he could one day be mine too. Besides, we don’t get to choose our children. Nobody does.

“And like I said. Even if I’ve never met him, a boy’s wellbeing is at stake,” Maren continued, “I have to take this seriously. I am taking this seriously.”

Elsa felt a surge of confidence and love at Maren’s words, and she beamed at her wife. She picked up the phone.

“I couldn’t help but overhear, Ms Arendelle,” the director said, “I assume then, that you both wish to be considered as prospective parents?”

Elsa met Maren’s eyes, and Maren gave her an encouraging nod.

“Yes, we do.”

-

They were sitting in a meeting room in the orphanage, waiting for a verdict. The director had informed them that under normal circumstances, they would have had to wait several days for their application forms to be processed. But she explained that the situation was unique and would be faster.

Firstly, the orphanage already knew Elsa’s and Maren’s backgrounds and personal information very well, given that they were Arendelles.

Secondly, Professor Porter had reported to the orphanage on Elsa’s uncanny ability to connect with Tarzan, and even before Elsa and Maren had arrived, he was already considering how to go about approaching Elsa to help with Tarzan’s case. It was the orphanage that had been pushing back, worried that Elsa may not want to be in Tarzan’s life, and getting her unwillingly on board would hurt Tarzan. The director had revealed this to the couple to explain why she wanted to expedite the proceedings, but this news only made Elsa more worried. She wondered how poorly Tarzan must be doing in his new environment for the orphanage to jump through so many hoops for him.

Professor Porter and an orphanage staff entered the meeting room.

“Ms Arendelle! Thank you very much for coming! I have so much to discuss with you…” he spotted Maren, “Who are you?”

“Honeymaren Nattura. Elsa’s wife.”

“Oh. Why are you here?”

The professor was rather blunt.

“They’ve applied to be prospective parents to Tarzan, Professor,” the staff explained.

“Have they now? Fascinating.”

The professor regarded them with the same curiosity he adopted when studying his research subjects, with neither approval nor disapproval on his face.

The four of them settled into their seats.

“I would like to begin by saying that your applications have been approved,” the staff began.

Elsa and Maren heaved a sigh of relief.

“This does not mean that you will eventually be Tarzan’s parents. It just puts everyone in the right frame of mind to appreciate the gravity of the responsibilities that the both of you have undertaken. Ultimately, whether Tarzan becomes your son depends on whether the three of you are the right fit for one another, and whether it is in Tarzan’s best interest to join your family. Obviously, this will be a long process.”

Elsa and Maren held hands, nodding seriously, agreeing with everything the orphanage staff had explained.

“And with that, we move on to discuss the boy…”

“I’ll take it from here, thank you,” Professor Porter interrupted.

Turning to Elsa, he sighed.

“Ms Arendelle, Tarzan is not doing well. He has not been sleeping, he has not been drinking, he has not been eating. Yesterday was the last chance we gave him to feed orally. And he simply wasn’t taking enough fluids. So today, we had no choice but to put him on an intravenous drip.”

“Does that mean - ”

“Yes, we had to poke him with a needle. Multiple needles in fact, because he struggled and you know how toddler’s veins are like, but we have finally got a plug in, through which we are giving him the fluids and sugar that he so desperately needs.”

Elsa felt Maren grip her hand tighter.

“There is a reason why I have been begging the orphanage to contact you after yesterday,” the professor continued, “the few minutes with you was the only time Tarzan had been calm since I met him.”

“Professor, you must understand,” the staff tried to explain, “the boy is not an experiment you can introduce a stimulus to…”

He pointed at Elsa at the word “stimulus”.

“… and then take the stimulus away. Particularly if you claim Tarzan has formed an emotional connection with Ms Arendelle! Try to imagine the psychological damage if Ms Arendelle declines to participate after a few meetings!”

“I think I see both your concerns,” Elsa began, silencing the two of them, “you can rest assured that I intend to be there for the boy for as much as I am needed.”

“Great!” Professor Porter beamed, “That is as much assurance as I need.”

The staff nodded curtly, still sceptical of the professor’s enthusiasm and the speed with which everything was moving forward.

“Now, Ms Arendelle, if you would come with me,” the professor got up, excited, “I am very keen to see if you can finally calm the boy down.”

Elsa and Maren stood.

“Oh, you’re coming too?” Professor Porter regarded Maren for the first time since the meeting began.

“Uhm… yes?” Maren replied softly, looking unsure of her place in everything.

Elsa held her hand tighter.

“Yes, Professor,” Elsa spoke, “we applied for visitation rights together, after all.”

“That you may have done,” Professor Porter replied, studying Maren closely, “but I fear the boy may not respond well to yet another stranger. Even with me, he is more interested in my moustache than he is in me. He has not warmed up to anybody. Well, except Ms Arendelle here, of course. And that was only once, yesterday. Who knows what will happen today.”

“Well, in that case, I can wait outside?” Maren offered.

“Maren, but - ” Elsa turned to Maren.

“Only what’s best for Tarzan, remember? We’re not going to push this,” Maren interrupted.

Elsa could not love this woman more than she did in that moment. Maren was already a perfect mother.

Professor Porter apparently thought so too.

“Hmm… perhaps you _could_ come in Ms Nattura, since you seem to have an exact understanding of how delicate the situation is. I trust you will back off if Tarzan is afraid.”

The professor pointed to all of them, before continuing.

“And I will say now, as soon as Tarzan is uncomfortable, we terminate the meeting, alright? That applies to all of you.”

They all nodded seriously, including the orphanage staff.

-

They opened the door to Tarzan’s room to another painful sight. Tarzan was curled up in his cot, cradling his cast against his chest, his back to the door, as he rocked himself slowly. At the sound of the door opening, he sprung up, struggling on his two feet as his good hand continued to hold his broken arm. He backed to the side of the cot furthest from them, eyes wide.

“Oh my…” Maren gasped so softly only Elsa could hear.

His good hand wasn’t uninjured anymore, as the skin was marked with multiple cartoon animal band-aids. His fist was wrapped up into a huge ball of bandages, presumably to serve as a mitten to protect the IV plug buried inside the cloth.

Tears welled in his eyes as he bit his lower lip, trying to hold his own tears in, for fear of what his tears will elicit from these strange beings.

Elsa wanted to cry, but she successfully stopped herself. Both boy and woman seemed particularly skilled at reining their fear in.

Taking a deep breath, Elsa took a step forward, coming closer to Tarzan. Maren didn’t follow, keeping her distance.

Tarzan’s eyes trained on Elsa’s as recognition seemed to dawn on him.

“Try the lullaby again,” the professor suggested.

Elsa cleared her throat softly, before beginning the lullaby, starting on a different verse this time.

_Why can't they understand the way we feel?  
They just don't trust what they can't explain_

Again, Tarzan was drawn in immediately. He leaned back against his cot, sliding down until he plopped down on his bottom, so he could sit comfortably and listen, eyes never leaving Elsa’s.

Elsa felt her heart clench with overwhelming affection for this child. She gasped at the enormity of her emotions and tried to find her voice.

_I know… I know we’re…_

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t sing it. Her voice was breaking, tears threatening to fall.

Then, a voice behind her, in Northuldran much smoother and more natural than she could ever muster:

_I know we're different but deep inside us  
We're not that different at all_

It was Maren.

Maren was _singing._

Maren hardly ever sang, but on the rare occasion that she did, like in the shower or when she thought no one was listening, Elsa loved her voice. It was soothing, rich, and so very, very warm.

Tarzan must have loved it too, his eyes snapping immediately to Maren’s.

“You know this lullaby?” Elsa asked in a whisper.

“Of course I do,” Maren whispered back, voice thick with emotion as she continued to watch Tarzan, “It’s a Northuldran lullaby. I’m surprised you know it.”

“I must say though,” Maren continued to Elsa, trying to lighten the mood, “your Northuldran’s _very_ rusty.”

Elsa choked out an unexpected laugh at that, and Maren joined her. Tarzan perked up, eyes shifting between the two women. They stopped laughing immediately, watching him carefully.

Suddenly, to everyone’s surprise, Tarzan made a sound between a cry and a squeal, trying to imitate the laughter he had heard.

“Tarzan…?” the professor stuttered from behind.

Seeing the huge smiles on Elsa’s and Maren’s face, he tried again, this time producing a proper, genuine laugh.

It was easily one of the most beautiful sounds Elsa had ever heard.

“Oh my goodness, Tarzan has never even smiled before, let alone laugh!” the professor exclaimed, “which begs the question, are human expressions of happiness instinctive or do they need to be taught? Fascinating, fascinating!”

He scurried about, trying to find his notebook to document this event.

Tarzan seemed to allow Elsa and Maren to approach his cot. But as they got closer, he shrunk into himself, appearing shy. He was no longer smiling, studying the two women curiously.

Very, very tentatively, Elsa reached a hand into his cot. A wrong move. Tarzan scampered away, finding another corner of the cot to get as far away as possible. Elsa withdrew her hand immediately.

“Maybe we should approach this one person at a time,” Maren offered, stepping back to her original spot by the wall selflessly.

She nodded at Elsa once more to show she was fine with being the one to back off.

Elsa watched Tarzan, trying to put herself in his shoes, or rather, in his tiny, calloused, bare feet. Perhaps physical affection wasn’t the way to go. Elsa was never one for too much touching when she was afraid either. He was in a new place, meeting new people, and everything he’s encountered so far had been foreign, cold, clinical and unpleasant, or downright painful.

Elsa figured she knew how he felt. She felt similarly when she first moved to Arendelle as a teenager. Everything was so different from Northuldra, and with her inner world already changing as she grew up, moving countries on top of it all was overwhelming. And yet there was something so familiar about her new home in Arendelle. She supposed Tarzan felt the same way too, being in a world so different from his, but with strangers so much like him.

She looked around them, feeling that the four walls must make Tarzan feel so claustrophobic after all those time in the wild. Elsa had spent more than a decade in her youth in a self-imposed isolation – she knew how a confined space could feel so suffocating sometimes.

Her eyes landed on the window, and a thought struck her. How long had Tarzan been kept away from the outside world? Prior to landing in this orphanage he had been in a Northuldran hospital for who knows how long.

She could feel Tarzan’s eyes on her as she walked away from him towards the window. With a bit of a struggle, given that hospital windows were hardly opened, she finally managed to pry the windows open. A gust of hard, cold, wind blew in.

“Ms Arendelle!” the orphanage staff exclaimed, “it’s too cold outside!”

The cold didn’t bother her. She turned to watch Tarzan and wasn’t surprised to see him crawl towards the window, an arm sticking out of the cot, straining to reach the wind. He wanted to be nearer to the outside world, nearer to the wind, nearer to the wild.

“Wait!” Professor Porter caught Tarzan’s reaction too, “He likes the window opened… He wants to go to the window! My, my, Ms Arendelle, you _know_ him!”

With the energy of a much younger man, the professor hurried around Tarzan’s cot, unlocking the four wheels one by one before rolling the cot to Elsa’s side. Tarzan jumped excitedly in his cot, his whole body pressing against the bars by now as he tried to get out.

“Wait a second, young man!” the professor said to Tarzan, as he worked on the bars.

Before he pulled down the cot, he turned to Elsa, “you’ll hold him very tightly now, won’t you?”

“Umm… Professor…” the orphanage staff stepped in.

“Oh, relax!” Professor Porter said, “there are bars on the window, this is a children’s ward! I haven’t seen Tarzan look this happy in… well, ever!”

Elsa sat by the broad windowsill, leaving a space for Tarzan to crawl out onto. She nodded to the professor to say she was ready, and he lowered the bar. Immediately the boy rushed out, crawling on his feet and mittened fist onto the windowsill. Elsa immediately steadied him with hands on his waist. He was too distracted to care about the hands around him. He sighed, closing his eyes as the wind billowed through his long hair.

Everyone let out a laugh at the look of Tarzan looking so joyous. As Tarzan opened his eyes to take in the sight of the trees beneath him, Elsa could not look away from the sight of the boy before her.

They left the two of them by the windowsill for a while, before Elsa spoke.

“He’s shivering. It’s too cold.”

“Back to the cot, then,” Professor Porter decided.

Her hands still tight on his torso, Elsa lifted him up, intending to place him in his cot. Tarzan let out a whine in protest, and even with an arm in a cast and the other one in a mittten, he managed to launch himself onto Elsa, legs curling around her waist as his bandaged upper limbs grappled to cling onto her.

“Oof!” Elsa let out.

She was completely caught off guard, but maternal instincts kicked in and she wrapped an arm around him, keeping him from tumbling off her.

“Phew!” the professor exclaimed, “nice reflexes!”

Elsa’s breath caught as she felt the boy press tightly into her, mostly from his own grip. Despite her earlier agility, every part of her was frozen in a mix of shock and fear now, as she stiffened around him, not quite hugging him back, one arm even raised away from him as though in surrender.

He looked up at her with those eyes again, the eyes that she felt she knew so well. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart swelled, taking up her entire chest as it pounded against her ribs. She had never felt a love like this before.

Silence filled the room as everyone watched the pair, Tarzan looking up pleadingly at Elsa, not wanting her to let him go, and Elsa, barely holding onto him in the first place, rigid in her panic.

“Elsa…?”

Elsa heard Maren say, her voice sounding very faraway.

“Hug him back, Elsa,” Maren encouraged.

 _Right, right, hug him back._ Elsa thought to herself. _Thank goodness for Maren._

Very slowly, she brought her other hand down, running her palm lightly down Tarzan’s back. The boy nuzzled his face into her chest at that.

Elsa let out a shaky breath. She couldn’t help but wrap both arms tight around him, pulling him closer to her.

“Tarzan…” she breathed.

She could feel the boy physically relax into her at her acceptance of his hug, and the arms and legs around her released themselves. She flexed her arms just in time to take on the extra weight.

She staggered slowly to sit down on the windowsill, unable to look away from the boy in her arms. He curled further into her warmth as the cool breeze from the window continued to blow over them. Snuggled in Elsa’s warmth, he wasn’t shivering anymore.

With tears in her eyes, Elsa smiled up at her wife, trying to convey all her emotions to her.

“Maren…” she whispered.

Maren had tears in her eyes too, at the sight before her.

“I know, Elsa, I know…”

It was barely a minute before they heard a small snore emit from between Elsa’s arms. Tarzan had fallen asleep. It appeared that all he needed was a fresh, but somewhat chilly, breeze to remind him of the outside, and a warm embrace to shield the worst of the cold from him, for him to go into a deep slumber.

Professor Porter walked over to the pair, studying Tarzan closely.

“He hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in _days_ ,” he observed, before looking up at Elsa, “well, Ms Arendelle, I hope you didn’t have any plans for the rest of the day, because it looks like you won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not very happy with this illustration (this pose is difficult!)  
> But I got too excited by next chapter's illustration I couldn't muster the motivation to edit this one. I'm kinda digging chapter 4's art, if I may say so myself. It will be Maren&Tarzan, finally.
> 
> A sidenote on skin tone: I know Tarzan is caucasian. Maren's race is unknown. But to be on the safe side of this sensitive topic I took most of my skin colours from screencaps. Because of the dense forest shading of Tarzan's movie and the fact that he is quite tan, the colour I harvest matches Maren's skin tone more. For my universe, I guess we can assume Maren and Tarzan are a similar Northuldran (fictional country) race. I also made his eyes blue for an important plot point. I kinda like the idea that Tarzan looks like Maren, but with Elsa's eyes (Harry Potter style). In any case, I dont wish to start serious racial discussions for what is in essence a fanfic writing hobby, but if anybody feels strongly about the artistic choices I have made I am happy to discuss further to learn and improve.
> 
> Thank you!  
> Blackthorn


	4. First Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exciting chapter title, isn’t it? Therefore, I’ll hope you’ll tolerate the long chapter ahead. Also I learnt that I could have done Tarzan a favour last chapter and given him some sedation during his IV insertion. MY BAD XD This chapter expands on sedation-less medical procedures, so I added a sneaky line to rectify this loophole. Sneaky sneaky me. I am laughing at how lazy I am with accuracy. All for that hurt/comfort to soothe my soul. This is a poor representation of real medical work. AHAHA

**Day 2. Sunday Evening. Maren’s POV.**

Maren returned to Tarzan’s room with a cup of hot chocolate for Elsa. It was evening now, and Elsa was still sat by the windowsill, Tarzan curled up snugly in her arms, sound asleep and burrowed inside her coat as she continued to keep him warm.

“Hungry?” she whispered to Elsa, not wanting to wake Tarzan.

“Not really,” Elsa whispered back, although she accepted the mug gratefully, “but this helps.”

“Cold?”

“It’s fine.”

Maren smiled at Elsa, unable to stop herself from feeling emotional at the scene before her. She settled back in the chair she had pulled up earlier to be beside them.

“Love, I know you can’t talk much from fear of waking him up, so I’ll speak,” Maren began softly.

“I see it, Elsa. I see what you mean,” Maren continued.

She nodded, and said firmly, “he’s your son.”

Elsa teared, for what was probably the hundredth time that day.

“You have this connection with him. You just _get_ him. And it’s clear to me that you’re good for him,” Maren added, “I think that much is clear to his whole care team.”

Maren looked down at her hands as she played with her fingers, feeling a lack confidence but very determined.

“And I don’t know… I don’t know my place in all this but… I want to be here for the both of you.”

“Maren…”

“I want to promise you, Elsa. It is important I say this now, before we move forward, because I want you to remember it and to always hold me accountable to it. On the good days and the bad days. Especially on the difficult days.”

Maren took a deep breath and continued.

“I will always be there for Tarzan. No matter how much you love him, I will love him just as much. _Unconditionally._ Meaning that if there is a chance he will never love me the same way he loves you, I will love him as my son all the same.”

Elsa was silent for a long moment at that, and when Maren looked up, she saw tears streaming down Elsa’s face. Elsa sniffed.

“Could you get me a tissue? I’m dripping on Tarzan over here.”

Maren laughed.

“Right.”

She got up and fished in her pockets for a pack of tissue, pulling a piece out to gently dab Elsa’s face dry.

“Honeymaren,” Elsa sighed, as Maren settled down again, “you are the greatest person I know. I can’t even believe… How are you so…”

“I love you,” Maren said simply, “that’s how.”

Elsa sniffed again, before continuing.

“And to think… all these years... When I said I didn’t want kids and you were so supportive of that. Doesn’t it seem unfair to you now that we are pursuing this on my terms again? You… You are always so supportive of me, and I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“I love you,” Maren repeated, not knowing how else to explain herself beyond that.

It just was that straightforward for her.

Leaning forward to kiss Elsa on the head, “I will always support you. That’s what I promised you. And that’s what being a wife and a mother is all about, isn’t it?”

Elsa cried harder at that, and her fast breathing caused Tarzan to stir. The both of them froze, before Elsa patted him on the back gently and he settled back to sleep again.

“Sorry,” Maren whispered, watching Tarzan nervously.

Elsa shook her head at Maren.

“Please don’t apologise. I have no idea what I’m doing here either.”

They exchanged a soft laugh, before Elsa spoke again, eyes on Tarzan as she continued to pat him.

“I know he will warm towards you eventually, Maren. I don’t know his heart, but I know yours.”

Maren squeezed Elsa’s arm.

“Thank you for saying that.”

-

They spent a couple more hours like that, with Elsa, by the windowsill, rocking Tarzan gently as he continued to sleep, and Maren by their side, enjoying the sight of the two of them and passing the time by scrolling through her phone and pointing out news of interest to Elsa.

Professor Porter stopped by to check on them before he left for home, very pleased when he saw that Tarzan was still asleep. He explained that Tarzan likely needed this rest badly, after everything he’d been through.

At around 10pm Maren’s stomach growled. They hadn’t had lunch or dinner after all.

“Do you want to get dinner?” Elsa asked, hearing Maren’s stomach.

Maren stood, chuckling sheepishly.

“Yes, I think I should. What do you want?”

“Anything I can eat like this. Sandwiches?”

“Are you planning to stay the night? Shall I go home and pack you an overnight bag?”

Elsa thought about it for a while.

“We have to go to work tomorrow,” she mulled, “what are we going to do?”

Maren scratched her head as she pondered.

“I have a short day tomorrow, actually. Just the Captain promotion ceremony for Yelana in the morning. Was going to use the rest of the day to investigate Tarzan’s case, but I guess that’s off the table now. Conflict of interest and everything. So… I guess I can ask Yelana if I can take the afternoon off?”

“That would be great, Maren. It’ll be a full day of meetings for me, so I’ll only be able to join you two in the evening. I think I’ll speak to Edna tomorrow to see if I can take the rest of the week off.”

“We’ll need to find more permanent arrangements eventually, don’t we?”

Elsa sighed. So many things were changing so fast.

“I suppose so. But I think with time, Tarzan will get used to not having us around.”

“Not having you around, you mean.”

Elsa looked back down at the snoozing toddler and gave a shy smile.

“Yeah…”

Maren gulped, realising a new problem.

“Elsa… what should I do with him tomorrow? You know, before you get here?”

Elsa looked looked up and smiled at Maren confidently, “follow his lead. I have faith in you.”

-

**Day 3, Monday Afternoon.**

When Maren arrived at the orphanage on Monday afternoon, she was greeted by a commotion. The moment she turned into the medical wing, she could already hear Tarzan screaming. Maren hastened to his room.

A group of nurses were bustling in and out, looking frazzled. Maren could hear his wails even with the door closed, and it was even more heartwrenching whenever the door swung open.

“Uhm…” she approached a nurse, “what’s going on?”

“Oh Mrs Arendelle! Now may not be a good time.”

Maren didn’t bother to correct her regarding her name, too concerned with Tarzan.

“What happened to Tarzan?”

“He pulled out his plug. Professor Porter is trying to insert another one.”

_Ouch._

“Can I go in and see him?”

The nurse thought about it.

“Usually we wouldn’t allow it, but our usual techniques aren’t calming him down.”

She opened the door to allow Maren in.

Tarzan was bundled up in a blanket to prevent him from struggling, but even so, he was wriggling relentlessly, making him look like a violent worm. One arm was outside the bundle, and Prof Porter was currently clutching onto his fist tightly, aiming a needle at his dorsum.

Tarzan screamed as the needle went in, jerking away hard.

“Blast!” the professor exclaimed, as the needle missed.

Tarzan was hyperventilating now, jerking and spasming on the examination bench as he let out weak whimpers between his gasps.

“Let’s give him a break, shall we?” the professor sighed.

Tarzan squirmed away the moment he was free, almost scrambling off the bench if it weren’t for the quick hands of one of the nurses, who scooped him up. She continued to soothe him even as he kicked her repeatedly, before she sighed in relief as she deposited him safely in his cot.

“Ms Nattura!” Professor Porter finally noticed Maren had slipped in.

“Does he really need the plug, Professor?” Maren asked, feeling for Tarzan.

“I’m afraid so. Look at him, he’s crying but there aren’t any tears. He’s very dehydrated. And until he trusts us enough to feed, the IV is the only way to go. Can’t sedate too. He’s had too much too recently when we were fixing his arm.”

The professor watched her.

“Maybe you could try and make him feel better? He is understandably very afraid of all of us at the moment, so a fresh face might help.”

Maren swallowed, nodding.

She pulled up a chair by the cot and sat down. Tarzan didn’t react to her, obviously realising by now that no amount of running and trying to hide would prevent these people from approaching him. His sense of defeat at his situation made Maren feel worse.

She reached in to run a hand down his back. He flinched, but didn’t back away, continuing to whimper to himself. In the brief moment he had to himself in the cot, he had already peeled away his band-aid, and was holding his poked hand to his face as he tried to squeeze more blood out from his wound. Maren wondered if he learnt that in the woods as a survival technique to prevent infection.

Maren sighed. If Tarzan was going to tolerate the plug, he needed to see that it wasn’t there to hurt him. She didn’t know how she was going to make a toddler who wasn’t even two, and also understood no human language, comprehend that fact.

Maren hummed softly and continued to rub his back. Eventually, he rolled over to look up at her, intrigued by her melody. She switched over to rub his belly. He didn’t flinch away this time. They remained that way for about an hour, before Prof Porter came back.

“Are we ready to try again?” he asked.

Tarzan saw the professor and immediately started to cry again, eyes scrunched up to squeeze non-existent tears out as his dry, chapped lips wavered. This kid was clearly too dehydrated. Maren saw the needles in the professor’s tray and a thought struck her.

“I was wondering, Professor, would it help if you gave me a plug, to normalise it for Tarzan?”

“You… you want me to stab you with a needle?”

“Well, I think it might help Tarzan see that it isn’t just him that’s getting this kind of treatment. Right now everything is so foreign, and even the people who are there to help him are hurting him.”

The professor thought about Maren’s proposition.

“We normally don’t encourage this from normal parent-child scenarios as it’s unnecessary… but in this unique circumstance I see your point. There isn’t any other way to convey trust to the boy.”

“Exactly.”

“Well Ms Nattura, if you’re sure you’re okay with it. I know even adults have needle-phobia.”

“It’s fine.”

Maren had been through a life-threatening medical crisis years ago after a work accident, requiring huge surgeries and months of painful rehabilitation, so this was going to be nothing.

Tarzan fretted as the professor approached, but soon he realised that they were not lowering his cot. Making sure Tarzan was paying attention, the professor settled himself across from Maren, placing her arm on the portable table between them.

Maren spoke to Tarzan throughout the procedure, narrating what the professor was doing even though she knew he didn’t understand. She tried to convey with her tone and expression that she was calm, and that everything was friendly between her and the professor. She even threw in a few jokes to make Professor Porter laugh, for good measure.

Tarzan’s attention was caught. He remained fixated on Maren, staring hard at the procedure in front of him, occasionally looking up to catch Maren’s eyes whenever she spoke. It was as though he was listening to her instead of just hearing her. She pointed at her hand as the plug went in and was surprised to see that Tarzan understood pointing, as he followed her finger with his gaze, his eyes widening in fear as the needle pierced Maren’s skin.

“It hurts, baby,” Maren explained, “it hurts, but then it’s over and we move on.”

Obviously he didn’t understand, but he seemed soothed by Maren’s soft, low voice, as he settled down to kneel at the edge of the cot closest to Maren, hands on the bars as he leaned forward to get a better look.

When Professor Porter was done, Maren brought her hand to Tarzan to let him survey the professor’s handiwork.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Maren said, “and now the Professor can give me water through this if I need it.”

Tarzan ran a curious finger across her IV plug, looking between it and the smile on Maren’s face. His fingers fiddled with the plastic cannula. He frowned. All of a sudden, with a tug, Tarzan ripped the plug off Maren’s hand.

“AH!” Maren couldn’t help but shout.

That had hurt. Quite a lot. Maren bit her tongue to hold back any more cries as she waited for the throbbing pain to subside. Blood splattered the rails of the cot and Tarzan’s mattress.

“Tarzan!” Professor Porter cried.

Tarzan was holding Maren’s hand in his now, as he threw the plug aside. Maren didn’t pull back, watching what he was going to do next. Blood was oozing out of the wound in her hand, now rather larger than the point of entry because of how forceful Tarzan had tore the plug out. Tarzan brought a hand over it and began to squeeze more blood out.

“Is he…?” Professor Porter began.

“Yes. I saw him do it to his own wound. He’s protecting my wound by squeezing the blood out. I think he thinks the needle is like the thorns or branches in the woods.”

Maren felt love for the boy overwhelm her in that moment. This kid was special.

“Fascinating,” the professor said.

Eventually, there was too much blood all over the place and Maren retracted her arm gently so she could lower his cot. She took a gauze from the professor’s medical tray and applied pressure on her wound, turning back to Tarzan to show him the right way things should be done.

Leaning forward so that her elbows rested on the mattress on both sides of Tarzan, she gestured to her hand again.

“No, Tarzan, we don’t pull the plug out. It’s painful.”

Tarzan continued to stare at her. Cautiously, he approached her until his face was an inch away from hers as he continued to study her. In a move that surprised Maren, he pressed his forehead right up against hers, looking deep into her eyes, sizing her up with a small growl.

Maren didn’t back away, looking surely back at him. In that moment she felt her breath catch. He had blue eyes. _Piercing_ blue eyes. With the same ability to look right into her soul as someone she knew very well.

She knew that biologically he wasn’t related to Elsa, and that she was being completely illogical, but in that moment, she couldn’t help but feel sure that this was Elsa’s son.

Seeing the truth and the goodness in her eyes, Tarzan pulled back, the tension in his whole frame fading. And Maren knew instinctively that she had earned Tarzan’s trust.

“Fascinating,” Professor Porter said again, “Northuldran apes are known to do that. Researchers are now saying it’s a sign of respect.”

Maren was glad to hear that, and she smiled up at Tarzan.

“Shall we try again, Professor?”

“I guess we can. Yes, I’ll get the blanket and reinforcements.”

“No, I meant give me another plug.”

“What?”

“We are going to do this as many times as it is needed to show Tarzan that he cannot go around pulling out IV plugs. He needs to see that if it gets pulled out, it goes back in.”

“Are you serious, Ms Nattura?”

“Dead serious.”

The professor paused. Maren let the silence stretch to prove how firm she was on this matter.

“Okay then,” Professor Porter finally said.

Maren wanted them to do it in Tarzan’s cot this time, without any bars between them. She knew it was highly likely he’ll pull it out again with no barriers to prevent him from reaching her, but she was ready to do this a third time. And a fourth. And so on.

She placed her other hand on the mattress this time, and the professor began fiddling around to look for a vein. Tarzan’s hand came to shove the professor’s hand away from Maren.

Maren smiled at Tarzan, gently shifting his hand away.

“No,” she said, gentle but firm.

The professor reached for Maren again. Tarzan blocked him.

“No,” Maren repeated, taking Tarzan’s hand away again.

“Fascinating how he seems so protective of you,” the professor remarked.

Everything was fascinating to Professor Porter.

It happened a third time, and this time as Maren came to push Tarzan’s hand away from blocking the professor, Tarzan spoke.

“No.”

The adults froze.

“Did he just speak meaningfully?” the Professor gasped.

“I- I think he did.”

They both broke into nervous laughter as Tarzan looked on, perplexed by their reaction.

“Well done, my boy! Well done!” the Professor praised, a huge smile on his face.

Tarzan smiled back shyly, before suddenly breaking into his laugh again, trying to follow the adults. It was a little too inappropriately loud, but he didn’t know better and Maren thought it sounded beautiful.

He seemed to like the sound of it too, tumbling down to lie on his back, kicking his legs in the air as he continued to laugh. Maren reached over to tickle his tummy. He squealed, squirming away even as he clamped his cast over Maren’s hand to keep her there.

“NO! NO! NO!” he repeated over and over again, in between his squeals.

Eventually their laughter died down, although Maren continued to smile widely down at him. He looked up at her with those trusting, deep, blue eyes that had absolutely no reason to be this familiar to maren.

While the trust held, Maren reached her other hand into his cot, wrapping both hands around his torso, lifting him up. He let her, eyes still fixed on hers.

She settled him on her lap, facing away from her, and he shifted about, making himself comfortable. His neck was still craned such that he could continue to look back at her. Maren felt her heart lift at that.

“Hmm,” the Professor noted, “it appears Ms Arendelle isn’t the only one who has a way with him.”

“Shall we try again?” Maren asked.

“On who this time?”

“Me, of course.”

“With him seated there? He’ll squirm even more. I might miss and poke you all wrong.”

“So be it.”

The professor sighed.

“It’s fine, really,” Maren insisted, “he needs to trust we don’t want to harm him if you are ever going to keep the plug in. The mitten yesterday obviously is not working.”

“Okay… but hold him tight.”

“I will.”

Maren wrapped one arm around him, pulling both his arms down his sides, as she enveloped him securely against her. He stiffened in fear, but she smiled down at him, speaking in a low, even voice.

“It’s okay, baby. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

He didn’t understand, but he also did, and he relaxed into her, his good hand bending up as much as it could to stroke her forearm for comfort.

With one arm holding him down effectively, Maren offered her other hand to the professor to put in the plug. Tarzan flinched when the professor pulled out the needle again, but Maren kept talking to him, which soothed him as he watched another plug go in Maren’s vein, enthralled.

“All done,” the professor declared, “are you… going to let him pull out this one too?”

He seemed more interested in Maren’s next step than concerned, a scientist’s curiosity overriding every other emotion.

“We’ll let him decide,” Maren declared.

She brought her hand with the plug to tarzan, and again, his fingers began to trace over the plastic cannula.

“No,” Maren said, once.

Tarzan turned at her voice to look at her, his tiny hand still clasped around her IV.

“No,” he echoed.

Maren almost nodded, but she didn’t want to confuse him, so she just maintained her gaze. Finally, he retracted his hand. The professor let out a sound almost like a yelp in glee and surprise.

“Victory at last!” he exclaimed, “I think that’s the first time we have successfully communicated with the boy. What a wonderful moment!”

He busied himself with trying to find his notebook. Maren cleared her throat.

“The plug for Tarzan, Professor?”

“Oh yes!” the professor stilled, “I almost forgot! Yes, we’d better get to that first, now that we have his trust.”

The professor unfolded the blanket, preparing to wrap Tarzan up again. Maren saw Tarzan’s eyes scrunch and lips quiver at the sight.

“Is that really necessary?”

“I’m afraid so. Toddlers will never stay still in the face of pain, no matter how trusting they are of the situation. Without it, he can hurt himself.”

Maren sighed, nodding.

“Let’s make it quick then, he’s going to hate me after this too.”

“Welcome to paediatrics,” the professor declared wryly.

He laid the blanket out on the cot, and in a swooping motion, Maren lifted Tarzan up before he could respond, planting him in the centre of the cloth. The professor swiftly bundled him up, as Tarzan let out a heart-rending wail in the process.

When he was swaddled, Maren leaned down over him, pressing her forehead against his, like he did to her earlier. In their new position, they were upside down, but she still managed to convey her need for him to trust her.

He stopped struggling at the touch of her forehead, arching back to try and look up at her.

“Be still, baby, please. Please trust me.”

The professor wrestled Tarzan’s good hand out of the tight wrap of the blanket. It was a relatively easier job this time round, now that Maren was constantly whispering to Tarzan.

“Steady now…” he signalled to Maren.

Tarzan screamed when the needle went in, jerking hard, even in his swaddle. But the professor’s grip was firm, and he held Tarzan’s hand in place.

Maren couldn’t help it, tears started to burn in her eyes at the sight and sound of Tarzan’s anguish.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to him, forehead still on his, as she placed both her hands on the sides of his face to comfort him, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

A teardrop fell from her eye to his face, but she didn’t shift away.

Tarzan continued to wail, not calmed by Maren at all. The professor was right, at his age the toddler could only take in one thing in that moment, and that was the sting of the IV plug that had just gone in.

Eventually, the professor was done.

“Okay, okay, Tarzan! We’re done. Phew! This little one’s feisty,” he observed.

He released his grip on Tarzan’s hand, wiping a brow. Tarzan continued to squirm within the blanket. Maren released him. Immediately, he wriggled away, trust in her completely broken. Maren willed herself to hold in her tears. Of course, he would feel betrayed, but what choice did she have?

Tarzan used his cast to pull his good hand towards his face again, as he studied his new IV plug, whimpering quietly to himself. Maren wanted to pull him in for a hug but knew not to push it.

He didn’t pull out his plug this time, even ignoring the professor as he approached him cautiously, which allowed him to hook the plug up to the drip. He wasn’t going to pull this plug out this time.

And that was good enough for Maren. She forced herself to remember that none of this was about her. At the end of the day, it shouldn’t matter what Tarzan thought of her. As long as he got what he needed.

She stumbled back down into her chair, wiping her eyes dry as she continued to watch him from afar, exhausted.

The door to the room burst opened.

“I’m here, I’m here!” Elsa announced breathlessly.

Her hair was a mess and her work clothes were rumpled. It looked like she had rushed over from work in a hurry. Her eyes widened at the scene in front of her.

“Why is there so much blood?!”

They all followed Elsa’s gaze to the mattress, bloodstained from earlier when Tarzan pulled out Maren’s plug.

“It isn’t Tarzan’s blood, don’t worry,” Maren explained, “it’s mine.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“It should.”

Elsa frowned at Maren.

“What did you do to yourself, Maren?”

“What makes you think I did this to myself?”

“I know you. What did you do?”

“Tarzan needed an IV plug after pulling out his old one,” the professor explained, “Ms Nattura suggested we give her one too, to set an example, but then Tarzan pulled it out of her hand.”

Elsa sighed, looking pained. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Maren.”

“What?” Maren gestured towards Tarzan, “the point is, he’s tolerating the plug now, isn’t he?”

“Still.”

“Elsa, what’s best for him, remember?”

Maren stared Elsa down, and finally, they exchanged a small smile, Elsa relenting and accepting what Maren did.

“So, how is he?” Elsa asked, eyes still holding Maren’s gaze, but nodding her head towards the cot.

“Very angry at all of us.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help.”

“Don’t be. But you should be sorry that you missed Tarzan’s first word.”

Maren grinned when she said that, feeling proud.

“What?!” Elsa gasped.

At that, Tarzan looked up at her, recognition registering on his face immediately. But after all the betrayal the day had brought, he remained rooted to his spot, merely staring cautiously up at Elsa instead of going to her.

“What?” Elsa asked again in a whisper, eyes on Tarzan now.

“He said ‘No’,” Maren replied.

“Meaningfully,” the professor added.

“Did he now?” Elsa’s eyes widened, the corners of her lips twitching up into a smile.

“Wait… he said it _meaningfully_?” Elsa repeated, frowning slightly now, “why did he have to say ‘no’ meaningfully in the first place?”

Maren beamed even wider at that.

“He was protecting Ms Nattura,” the professor chimed in, “he could imagine her pain and didn’t want her to go through what he did. Which is fascinating really, I always thought empathy was a _human_ trait.”

“Uh Prof… he is huma-” Maren faltered at the look on Elsa’s face, forgetting that she was about to correct the professor.

Elsa’s eyes were shining with fresh tears, as she stared at Tarzan with awe and pride. Elsa feeling proud should have made no sense, but Maren got it; Elsa already saw herself as Tarzan’s mother. And the gravity of Elsa’s love for the boy made Maren lose her train of thought.

“Elsa…?”

“Oh, Maren,” Elsa gasped, rushing to the cot, “he’s just _wonderful,_ isn’t he?”

Mother and son, or at least so in Maren’s eyes, were staring at each other now, Elsa grinning down at him. Tarzan bared his teeth at her in an attempt to imitate. Maren chuckled at the adorable sight.

With a nod from the professor granting her permission, Elsa lowered down one side of the cot, holding her arms out for Tarzan. Cautiously this time, unlike the evening before where he flung himself into her arms, he crawled towards her. And when Elsa remained firm in her place and didn’t lean forward to force or overwhelm him, like everyone else did to him that day, Maren included, Tarzan closed the gap himself and climbed snugly into her arms.

Elsa’s slim frame seemed to envelope around him completely as she tucked his head into the crook of her neck and rocked him gently. And Tarzan collapsed with relief, looking comforted for the first time that day.

Maren felt the familiar rush of love she usually experienced whenever she saw Elsa do _anything_ , but she was surprised when she felt the same rush for the boy in her wife’s arms. She was deluding herself if she thought she was adopting Tarzan just for Elsa. The boy had her heart.

Tarzan thrust his mittened fist up at Elsa’s face, showing her his new wound with a whimper and round, pleading eyes.

“I know, sweetie,” Elsa whispered, before giving his hand a kiss, “you were very brave today, weren’t you?”

“No.”

Maren choked.

The Professor gasped.

“Did he just speak again…?” Elsa asked softly.

“Okay…” Maren finally said, “maybe he doesn’t quite understand the word yet.”

She felt a little dejected at this discovery.

Elsa chuckled at Tarzan, leaning down to kiss his nose.

“Maybe he did, but that’s honestly a bit of a stretch,” she said, and Tarzan laughed back.

“NO NO NO NO NO!!!” he squealed, the word losing all meaning with how many times he’s said it.

But he was just delighted at Elsa’s reaction to him speaking.

Elsa laughed harder, turning him in her arms so he was facing Maren.

“And Maren here taught you that word, didn’t she?”

Tarzan’s gaze followed Elsa’s and landed on Maren briefly. Brief because he immediately cowered, turning around to burrow into Elsa again.

And Maren did make a promise yesterday. Said it out loud to Elsa and everything. That no matter what, she would be there for Tarzan. _For_ Tarzan. It would not matter how he felt towards her. But Maren would be lying if she said that experiencing the rejection for real didn’t hurt.

She turned away, swallowing the hot lump in her throat as she forced herself to be less selfish.

Of course, Elsa caught it.

“Maren…” she began, and Maren could sense Elsa shifting to put Tarzan back in his cot so she could go over and comfort Maren.

Maren spun round.

“Don’t,” she ordered, “You have to hold me to my word, remember?”

They exchange a long, silent glance, and Maren tried to convey as much conviction as she could to Elsa.

Eventually Elsa nodded, and returned her attention to the boy in her arms, gently rocking and cooing to him. It was barely an hour with the IV hydration and Tarzan was already looking fuller, brighter and happier.

Maren felt the disappoint ebb away at the sight.

Tarzan was _so_ cheerful, eyes shining with energy and mirth, finally.

This.

This made it all worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this art has been my favourite so far, it was my first time DRAWING angst. GAH. So I hope you will forgive me that I drew tears for Tarzan even though he is supposed to be dehydrated.


	5. Commitment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably no picture for a few chapters! Been a bit busy.
> 
> Forever grateful to everyone who takes the time to read these lil fics <3
> 
> Cheers!  
> Blackthorn

**Day 5. Tuesday Morning. Elsa’s POV.**

Elsa and Maren managed to get the rest of the week off and they were looking forward to spending their first full day with Tarzan.

The orphanage had granted permission to the full day visit, as Tarzan’s care team had now seen how having either or both of them around greatly improved Tarzan’s overall wellbeing.

As they approached the ward Maren headed straight for the bench outside Tarzan’s room.

“Where are you going?” Elsa asked.

“I’ll wait here,” Maren said as a way of explanation, plopping herself into the chair nearest Tarzan’s door, “you go ahead.”

She had sat there last night while she waited for Elsa to put Tarzan to bed, as after the IV plug betrayal Tarzan was too fretful to rest with Maren in the same room.

“Maren, come on, I’m sure he’ll be fine with you today.”

“I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“Maybe you will. But he’ll just have to get used to it. You did what you had to do for his own good and he has to accept that sometimes good things feel horrible. We can’t coddle him.”

Maren quirked an eyebrow in surprise at Elsa’s stern approach. And to think Elsa had been so soft-hearted with Tarzan all this while.

“Am I the good thing that feels horrible?” Maren teased, which was just like her to use humour as a defence mechanism.

“Don’t.”

Maren groaned.

“What? Are you going to hover in his periphery forever?” Elsa pushed on, “How is this going to help your cause?”

“We said we weren’t going to do anything that would harm him just for my sake, remember?”

“We spoke to Professor Porter yesterday and he said it would do Tarzan good if we _both_ saw him today. So don’t you hide behind the guise of protecting Tarzan!”

Maren stiffened and looked down at her hands. Elsa bit her lip. Okay, maybe she shouldn’t have said that last bit. That was too far.

She joined Maren on the bench.

“I’m sorry,” Elsa began, bumping Maren’s shoulder with hers, “That wasn’t fair. You’ve been nothing short of amazing this whole time.”

Maren remained silent, though she did lean in to rest on Elsa’s arm.

“What is this _really_ about?” Elsa asked.

“It’s just…”

Maren took some time to sort out her feelings.

“When I see you with him… honestly? I thought I’d feel jealous. I was expecting to. But I really don’t. I _want_ that for you. And I’m so happy you have that with Tarzan. Wouldn’t change it for the world. But then… there was a moment yesterday when me and him were doing so well together and… I dunno… it just feels like I tricked him somehow, with the IV and everything. And then that connection we shared made it hurt so much more when it was over and he was back to being scared of me. So I guess I’m jealous of my past self. And I keep imagining that one day we would be like that again. But now, to go inside and have him launch into a screaming fit at the sight of me… I guess it’s just gonna remind me of the reality of our relationship,” Maren laughed humourlessly, “I’m such a coward.”

Elsa wrapped an arm around Maren, pulling her in so she could kiss her head.

“You’re so brave,” she murmured into her hair, “To see him through his procedure must have been so painful, for you both. I don’t know if I could do what you did yesterday. Or at least there would have been a lot of tears. My tears I mean, not just his.”

“Oh, I was crying,” Maren admitted, “ _my_ tears were running down _his_ cheeks.”

They both shared a watery laugh at that, even as Elsa nuzzled deeper into Maren.

“You were there for him when he needed you most, and one day, when we tell him about this, he will appreciate you for that. I know it.”

“That’s the messed-up part, isn’t it? I don’t want to care about whether he appreciates it. I want to be there just for him. That’s all. I don’t want to do this to get something from him.”

“Valid sentiments,” Elsa nodded, “but stop being so freaking noble all the time, would you? It’s human to want to be loved back. So give yourself a break.”

Maren emitted a sheepish laugh at that.

“Besides where was all this whole selfless act last night when you were being so _…_ ,” Elsa cleared her throat to hide a laugh, ”well, _needy_ in bed?”

Maren shoved Elsa’s side as Elsa giggled.

“Shut up. Yesterday was a trying day,” Maren retorted, even as she continued to grin, “A little boy hates me. My wife thinks I’m a good, horrible thing. Have some sympathy, you icy bitch.”

Elsa laughed and nodded, conceding defeat, and pulled back so she could slip her hand between them and lace her fingers with Maren’s. They remained that way for a long while, side by side on the bench, Elsa letting Maren decide when it was time to move on. She was not going in to see Tarzan without Maren this time.

Eventually, Maren gave Elsa’s hand a squeeze as she got up, tugging Elsa along with her.

“Okay, let’s do this. Tarzan’s probably awake and missing you a lot by now.”

-

Tarzan stood up in his cot eagerly the moment he spotted Elsa, but he began to cry when he saw Maren follow her into the room.

Elsa could feel a tug on her hand as Maren stayed back, not wanting to approach any closer. Elsa stopped and turned to check in on Maren.

“Go on,” Maren insisted.

Maren gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before she let go to let Elsa walk to the cot herself.

Elsa considered it a small victory that Tarzan was no longer afraid to show his emotions freely in front of them. When he used to shrink into himself or cower in a corner, too guarded to show his disapproval, it just made everything feel much, much worse.

He reached over his cot, arms flapping out towards Elsa, begging to be carried, as his watery eyes remained wide and fixed on Maren.

Elsa picked him up and slotted him on her hip, bouncing him up and down as she hummed to him softly until he calmed down. But even after he settled, his eyes never left Maren’s, watching her like a wounded animal wary of its attacker, which wasn’t too far from the truth.

“Hey…” Maren began softly, still standing by the door, “listen kid, I’m sorry about yesterday.”

Tarzan’s tiny whimpers died off at the sound of Maren’s voice, as he straightened in Elsa’s arms. He seemed more curious than afraid now. 

Elsa took it as a positive sign and moved towards Maren. Tarzan didn’t protest, even as he clutched Elsa’s braid tightly in his hand.

“Do you think he understands what I’m saying?” Maren asked, hope rendering her illogical.

“No, but I think he likes the sound of your voice.”

Elsa smiled up at Maren, “I have to agree with him. It’s soothing.”

Maren rolled her eyes, even as she bit her lip to try and hold in her grin.

“Stop being such a sap, will you?”

“yee-oooh…?” a small voice suddenly squeaked between them.

Elsa and Maren exchanged a startled glance, before they stared at the boy Elsa was carrying.

“He only ever imitates sound when you’re around…” Elsa observed, “there was his first laugh, and then his first word, and now he’s trying to repeat your last statement.”

Maren brightened at that revelation, smiling down at Tarzan. Tarzan’s eyes flitted between Maren’s and Elsa’s, and Elsa nodded and smiled at him encouragingly. He regarded Maren again, now devoid of fear, seeing that Elsa trusted her.

Maren heaved out a shaky sigh of relief.

“Are you trying to talk like us, young man?” she asked.

“mam-mam-mam-mam-mam,” he babbled, repeating Maren’s last word again, but unable to pronounce ‘n’

“He is obsessed with you!” Elsa laughed, bouncing the boy on her hip joyfully.

Tarzan didn’t repeat after Elsa, still babbling “mam-mam-mam” over and over again as he basked in the affection of the two women.

“Ha. Ha. Don’t exaggerate,” Maren insisted, even as Elsa could see she was very pleased with herself, “at least he forgives me, though.”

“I told you. He’ll get it,” Elsa replied, “maybe not in a concrete way… but he saw that you got a plug too and you went through what he did. He trusts you. Present tense.”

Maren shrugged off the compliment, though she did rub her thumb over where her IV used to be, looking proud.

Tarzan was starting to wriggle so much in Elsa’s arms that she decided it would be easier to sit down. She lowered herself to the floor beside some toys laid out for the trio’s playtime today and immediately regretted her decision. As she sat on the ground, Tarzan’s feet touched the floor, giving him the leverage he needed to launch himself high into the air, pouncing onto Elsa’s shoulder to perch himself on her head.

“Ow!” Elsa cried, as she felt his fists grapple at her hair for purchase.

“Woah!” Maren exclaimed, more awed than concerned, “Imagine what he can do without a broken arm.”

“A little help here? He’s going to pull all my hair out! You like my hair!”

Instead of coming over to help Elsa, Maren fished out her phone to snap a few photos, chuckling to herself.

“This is hilarious.”

“Honeymaren Natt- Tarzan, ARGH!” Elsa continued to exclaim, as Tarzan was now squatting on top of her, one feet on each shoulder as he sat his butt on her head. He bent forward so he could face her squarely, albeit upside down, and started making funny faces at Elsa as he continued to babble. Elsa couldn’t help but giggle at his silliness.

Tarzan got a little too excited, leaning so far down that he forgot he had an arm in a cast that would prevent him from steadying himself. Before Elsa could react, he tumbled forwards.

“NO TARZ-” Elsa gasped, hands swinging to her head seconds too late.

There was a clatter as Maren dropped her phone, swooping in just in time to scoop the somersaulting Tarzan up before he hit the ground.

Everyone was stunned into silence for a long moment after, Tarzan included, who was gripping onto Maren’s arm, his eyes wide, shocked by his own diminished agility. Maren was the first to move, shifting Tarzan more securely in her hold.

“Ohmygosh…” breathed Elsa very quietly, panting a bit and still very much in shock, “thank goodness for your reflexes, Maren.”

Maren looked down at Tarzan, “you okay there, buddy?”

Tarzan merely clung onto her tighter, still confused and traumatised. Maren rubbed soothing circles down his back and kept her voice light and calm.

“You forgot you had a broken arm for a moment there, didn’t you?”

Tarzan whimpered, and nuzzled deeper into Maren. Maren gasped at the new intimacy, eyes snapping to Elsa’s.

“El-Elsa…?” she whispered, voice trembling.

“Keep talking,” Elsa urged, “I think your voice is calming him down.”

Maren staggered back into a chair, rearranging Tarzan in her arms so that she wouldn’t be leaning on his legs. She continued to rub his back.

“You’re okay. I got you. Always.”

Eventually Tarzan’s breathing evened, and he looked considerably calmer, as he pressed his ears to Maren’s chest to feel the vibrations from her voice.

Maren turned to Elsa.

“Phew!” she huffed, “who knew he was so active?”

Elsa nodded, feeling pained.

“I think that moment was the first time he was truly himself. He felt at ease around people, finally. And he’s just regained his strength from the IV hydration. And to think… gosh… the past few days, perhaps weeks, when he was so lethargic and frightened in his cot all the time… I can’t imagine how much he must have been suffering… and for so long…”

“Hey,” Maren prompted, pulling Elsa out of her ruminations, “the most important thing is that he is now getting the care he needs. He will never be left wanting. I know we’ll make sure of that.”

Elsa smiled up at her wife and the boy in her arms.

“Yes, we will.”

-

Tarzan unfortunately did not revert back to his lively self the rest of the day, still stunned by his near-accident in the morning. Elsa and Maren discussed how such incidents seemed to affect him more than the average toddler. Their nieces and nephews, Anna’s kids especially, were so accident-prone but always remained boisterous after each fall. They figured it had to do with living in the wild, where any mistake could be costly, and a nasty fall could be the end of an ape’s life.

Tarzan remained comfortably cradled with Maren, so they didn’t try to move him. Maren tried to play it down but Elsa could tell that Maren was extremely pleased with this new development.

Elsa had suggested Maren read a picture book to Tarzan, given how receptive he had been to Maren’s voice. And Tarzan was completely fascinated by the concept of a book, initially repeatedly flipping the book page by page from front to back and back to front. He was intrigued by how each flip revealed a new picture. The picture book presented a world Tarzan must have never experienced before as well, for it was an adaptation of Pixar’s Cars, and with every new vehicle revealed on a page, Tarzan would jab at it and look expectantly at either Elsa or Maren, demanding an explanation of what he was looking at, even though he didn’t understand a word.

Eventually, he finally let Maren have the book, and he settled back against her to listen to her read the story. Maren took many liberties with the reading, knowing that Tarzan was just listening to sounds, adding in humorous commentary just to make Elsa laugh. Tarzan looked between them, looking serene and secure in their joy.

Elsa didn’t think her heart had ever been fuller.

-

Lightning Mcqueen was apologising to his friends and his race team when Elsa’s phone rang. She excused herself and took the call outside Tarzan’s room, smiling to herself at the sight through the window, of Maren still reading aloud and Tarzan in rapt attention.

“Hey Anna- ”

“ELSA OF ARENDELLE!”

 _Yikes_. Anna hardly ever full-named her.

“Uhm…”

“ADOPTION? REALLY??? AND I AM LEARNING THIS THROUGH THE DIRECTOR OF THE ORPHANAGE?”

Elsa winced.

“She spoke to you?”

“Of course! The John Doe case from Northuldra was high profile enough to be brought to my attention. He costs us over twenty- well, it doesn’t matter. But anyway, because of the high costs involved I’ve been kept up to date ever since the Northuldran authorities first contacted the orphanage.”

“Not John Doe, Anna. ‘Tarzan’,” Elsa replied with the main thing that stuck out to her from Anna’s ramblings.

“That’s what that English Professor thinks. We don’t actually _know_ if it’s his name… Do apes even give their offspring names?”

“Professor Porter,” Elsa corrected again.

“Well, yes. Peculiar guy, have you met him? What am I saying of course you have! I am seeing YOU AND MAREN’S NAMES in the files as PROSPECTIVE PARENTS!!! Elsa, how could you not tell me? More pertinently… when-? What-? How-? I’m so… Huh? What??? Wh-Wh… MOTHERHOOD? ELSA? YOU???!!!”

Anna was a stuttering mess over the phone, completely blindsided by this new information about a sister she thought she knew so well.

Anna was so flabbergasted she could not continue talking, and Elsa took the opportunity to explain herself.

“Anna, I’m sorry you’re finding out like this. I really wanted to tell you myself, and I didn’t expect the foundation to be in the know. It all happened so quickly, I only met Tarzan on Saturday.”

“EXACTLY. You’ve only known him for what? Four days now? What are you thinking? You _never_ wanted kids.”

“Tarzan is different.”

“Exactly. Tarzan is not easy, Elsa. I’m not in a position to divulge the details but I have instructed the orphanage to give the prospective parents, which I just found out today, are MY SISTER AND HER WIFE, the full rundown. But all I’m going to say is that when he was in hospital, he was difficult. And expensive. And he will continue to be difficult and expensive.”

“Are you really evaluating this on the basis of money? Fortunately, Anna, as you decided to remind me at the start of this phone call, we are Arendelles. In terms of financial resources for his care, Tarzan stands the best chance with a family like ours.”

“I’m not just talking about money. I’m talking _time. Effort. Special Education. Therapy._ _So much therapy._ He will likely not have a normal childhood for _years_.”

“I know, Anna. What is your point?”

“Okay, fine. On top of that, normal kids stuff. Sick and shit, Elsa, remember? Luke and Leia are feeling better, by the way, thanks for asking,” Elsa could hear Anna’s eyeroll over the phone, “But yes, sick and shit. And diapers and tantrums and discipline and _time and energy. All your energy._ Frankly, it’s a lifestyle that you have made no secret of your disdain for all these years.”

“For Tarzan, I know I want this.”

“Then I am worried you don’t see the commitment required in this endeavour! I am worried that you are making a very impulsive decision! And I don’t want you, Maren, or _Tarzan_ , getting hurt from this!”

“You don’t have to worry about Tarzan, Anna, we are committed.”

Elsa straightened nervously as a new thought struck her. She didn’t expect so much resistance from her usually uber-supportive sister.

“Will your… uhm, opinion on this matter affect our application?”

“No, of course not,” Anna answered immediately, “I leave it to the professionals in the orphanage to decide. I’m calling because I want to ask you, as your sister, and a mother, if _you_ really want this.”

“Well, then you have nothing to worry about. I know I want this, Anna. I don’t know how to explain it to you. From the moment I met him, we just… he belongs with us, Anna. He just does.”

“And… Maren? What is she saying?”

It was at that point a nurse nodded to Elsa as she passed by to enter Tarzan’s room.

“Well…?” Anna probed again, “you always said Maren was happy without kids-“

Elsa’s attention was drawn immediately to this new development, inadvertently tuning out Anna, and she didn’t catch the rest of her questions.

The nurse was saying something to Maren, who nodded in agreement, before lifting Tarzan off her lap to place him on the examination bench.

Maren looked very, very anxious, but her eyes were fixed in steely determination.

 _No._ Elsa thought in panic, _not again._ Elsa didn’t want Maren to have to be the one to take Tarzan through an unpleasant procedure again.

“Anna, I’m going to have to call you back.”

But it was too late. Tarzan reacted violently to being placed on the bench, and with his new energetic self he flailed about vigorously, one powerful foot knocking right into Maren’s face.

“Ow!” Elsa could hear Maren cry out through the window.

_Shit._

Elsa stuffed her phone back in her pocket and rushed through the door, to see that Maren’s lip had started bleeding.

“Maren!” Elsa gasped.

Maren merely wiped the blood off her lower lip with her sleeve, laser-focused on the task at hand.

“Okay, Tarzan, come on,” she murmured to him, voice still cool as a cucumber, with absolutely no hint that she had been injured, “let’s get you off this thing.”

She hoisted the distraught boy back in her arms, which calmed him down considerably, and rested his head on one shoulder as she began to pat his back.

Only when Tarzan quietened down did she look at Elsa, sucking on her lower lip to try and apply pressure to her wound.

“What-?” Elsa began.

“Vaccination,” Maren explained.

The nurse was still holding on to the injection in her hand, shocked at how strong this particular toddler was.

“Can this be done another time?” Elsa asked.

“I’m afraid not. He has many vaccinations to catch up on, and we are already spreading it out as much as we can,” the nurse explained, “this one’s still late by that timeline because of his dehydration the past few days. Given that this is the first time he is among people we have to give them as soon as possible. Catching an avoidable illness on top of everything he has gone through will be too much.”

Maren handled Tarzan in one arm as she reached down to pick up the book with her other hand.

Softly but surely, she began to read to Tarzan again. Eventually he pushed his head off his shoulder so he could squirm around to look at the book as well.

With him so engrossed, Maren nodded at the nurse once more and she crept behind them. In a continuous, swift, practised motion, the nurse pulled down one side of Tarzan’s pants, administered the jab and applied the band-aid. It was done in a blink of an eye. Tarzan didn’t notice, still hyper-focused on Maren and her story-telling.

“We’re done,” the nurse whispered, not wanting to distract Tarzan, before slipping out of the room.

Maren’s eyes met Elsa’s and she stopped reading at the look on Elsa’s face. Maren’s smile was shy at first, still biting her lip at her wound, before it grew proud, and then smug.

Elsa knew she was being ridiculous and inappropriate, but she was only just learning how attractive Maren could be as a mum. And Elsa had never wanted to kiss Maren more than she wanted to in that moment.

Her phone was buzzing incessantly.

“Yeah?” she answered it, still looking at Maren and knowing she has a dopey grin on her own face to match Maren’s smirk.

“Ohmygosh Elsa whatthehellhappened???”

It was Anna.

“One moment you were saying you were going to call me back and then you didn’t cut the call and the next moment I heard a kid cry and Maren shout and a door slam…”

Elsa laughed, which startled Anna into silence.

“Tarzan had to get a vaccine shot. No big deal…”

Maren raised an eyebrow at Elsa's cheeky downplaying of what happened.

“Maren got a cut lip somewhere along the way, but she handled it. _Heroically_.”

Maren grinned, though her cheeks reddened. It was a long time since Elsa had said anything that could make Maren blush.

“A CUT LIP???” Anna gasped, “From trying to give a baby a shot? Elsa, what did I say? I told you! Tarzan is not easy! Perhaps you should let the professionals handle this, I hired the best and the brightest for him!”

Elsa slipped out of the room again so she could speak more freely.

“Well your best and brightest _asked_ us to be here. Professor Porter thinks we’re good for him. He told us to come today.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you’ll be excellent parents, Elsa, my whole point from the beginning was whether you _want_ to become parents.”

“I want this, Anna,” Elsa said, surer than ever.

She turned back to face the room, smiling at the sight of Tarzan laughing with Maren as he pointed out something in the book to her.

“And to answer your earlier question, Maren wants this too. She’s said it. And I can see it.”

“Even after knowing it’s going to be difficult? Even after experiencing whatever _that_ was a few minutes ago?”

“No matter how difficult. _Especially_ after that.”

Anna mulled over everything for a long moment.

“You’re really sure, aren’t you?” she finally asked.

“The only time I’ve been this sure is deciding to be with Maren. And this time, it feels exactly the same.”

Anna sighed, “Alright, then.”

“Alright?”

“You have my support.”

“I…I do?”

“If you run into fire I run in too, right? But Elsa, I _wish_ I could say motherhood was merely like running into fire. Just you wait and see _._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anna always has all-caps dialogue at least once in the logs.


	6. Big News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot heavy chapter ahead. I need to set up the stage for future moments in the fic.

**Day 4, Tuesday Afternoon. Maren’s POV**

The nurse had informed Professor Porter of Maren’s cut lip after she left the room, so now Maren and Elsa were in the professor’s clinic so he could stitch up her wound.

“I suppose this may not be the best time to bring this up,” the professor began, as he brought his needle to Maren’s lip.

Maren’s eye twitched as the professor began his stitch, but she still managed to say, “Go on.”

“So, as you know by now,” the professor continued, multitasking, “Tarzan’s care team consists of a panel including me (his paediatrician), therapists, a child advocate for his rights, police and lawyers, among a host of other people. We discuss daily, and they have all been updated on the excellent progress the two of you have been making with him. We think he will improve much faster if the two of you can become a more constant presence.

“This subsequent course of action is rather radical, but nothing about Tarzan’s case has been normal. What we are suggesting is that he lives with the both of you for the coming weekend.”

Elsa and Maren gasped. That caused Maren to yank on her stitch. Maren yelped.

“Sorry! Sorry!” the professor exclaimed, “perhaps I should have at least waited till I finished this.”

It was obvious it had been a long time since the paediatrician had treated adults who could understand what he was saying while he did procedures.

“Perhaps,” Elsa grumbled, a comforting hand on Maren’s shoulder.

Professor Porter completed the rest of the stitch in silence, and thankfully Maren didn’t need more than the one. When he was done, he put his instruments aside and faced the couple.

“Now, as I was saying. Tarzan is so much better when he’s with you. We are all, ultimately, primates, and a common behaviour among these species is a consistent family unit for raising the young. I presume it was what Tarzan had with the great apes of Northuldra before he re-joined civilisation. Therefore, when he was shuttered from place to place, and worse, country to country, it didn’t do him any good.

“Now that you both have applied to be his parents, I think it would benefit him if he could spend long, continuous periods with you such that his development and bonding skills would not be so truncated. We do not think he will ever pick up normal human behaviour in an institutional environment, so it is extremely fortunate that we have been suddenly presented with this option of integrating him into a family.

“It seems strange to talk about something so drastic, especially in the wake of Ms Nattura’s accident with Tarzan this afternoon, but with the current evidence of your interactions we believe you will manage. Ms Arendelle has already looked after Tarzan overnight here, and Tarzan has been looking so much better since getting the rest he needs.

“It will be supervised, of course. Usually in other orphanages I have worked with, homestays are done with an orphanage staff staying with the child in the prospective parents’ home. But the resources and funds of the Arendelle Orphanage, as I’m sure Ms Arendelle is keenly aware, is sizeable, and the orphanage is prepared to construct the best possible environment for Tarzan. Meaning, instead of a stranger supervising the three of you in person, we can, with your permission, monitor everything remotely with cameras and other surveillance equipment in your home.

“It sounds invasive, but at least Tarzan will not notice a stranger’s presence and we can observe his wellbeing and true emotions at his most uninhibited state, which is how he is only with the both of you, as we have clearly seen today. So really, it is the best possible scenario for him moving forward.”

Elsa and Maren merely stared at the professor after his long speech.

“Now, this is obviously a very big decision- ”

“Tarzan nearly fell earlier, Professor,” Elsa blurted, cutting him off and looking incredibly guilty, “it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t expect him to be so quick and so strong and he _leapt_ off my shoulder and if Maren hadn’t been there…”

“Ms Arendelle,” the Professor smiled kindly at Elsa, “we know. We saw. There is a huge window to his ward, remember?”

“And you still think this is a good idea in spite of that incident?”

“ _Near-_ incident. We were almost in the room when Ms Nattura caught him and saw everything that happened after. How you both comforted him. How he trusted you so much that even the subsequent vaccination went so smoothly.”

“Smoothly?” Maren asked wryly, dabbing at her stitch to see if there was any bleeding.

“Well smoothly for him,” the professor quickly clarified with an out of place chuckle, but Maren saw the humour in it and laughed with him.

“Those were the interactions that finally convinced me that Tarzan’s place is with you,” the professor said, before quickly adding at the hopeful looks on Elsa and Maren’s faces, “for now, at least. I’m not referring to the eventual adoption outcome.”

Elsa and Maren nodded.

“It would depend on how he copes with us at home,” Elsa stated.

“Exactly,” the professor agreed.

Elsa still looked worried.

Maren placed a hand over Elsa’s hand that was still on her shoulder.

“All kids are accident-prone, Elsa. Whatever happened earlier, it wasn’t from a lack of care or attention to Tarzan.”

“Agreed,” Professor Porter chimed in, “I must admit, I did not expect that level of activity and strength in Tarzan today, and I am a paediatrician who has been observing him for weeks. To be honest? If the both of you weren’t around, he might have still fallen, even with us professionals looking after him. There will be more things we can’t predict with this boy in his future. Normal rules do not apply. The most important thing is how much you care for him and that you are doing your best.”

Maren appreciated the professor’s honesty. There were a lot of unknowns in her encounters with child services in her line of work, and she always immediately didn’t trust the ones who figured they understood a child’s situation fully without acknowledging the complexities and uncertainties involved.

“But there’s so much we…” Elsa whispered quietly, her eyes flitting around even as it was unfocused and gazing into the distance.

Maren knew that look. Elsa was inside herself, imagining all the worst-case scenarios that could happen and plotting how to prevent them, and starting to panic about whether she could even handle it. There was a lot at stake in this homestay, and Elsa was a perfectionist who usually did not tolerate unpredictability.

But here they were, totally unplanned, head over heels for a chaotic, special, little boy.

Maren wanted to agree with Professor Porter’s plan straightaway. Perhaps it was because of the confidence booster she had with Tarzan earlier that day, but she felt like she could handle anything he threw their way. But Elsa was facing this homestay in the wake of a near-accident involving her prospective son and an actual accident involving her wife. She would never say it, but she clearly needed time away from Tarzan to think.

Maren stepped in.

“Professor, could we take some time to discuss? Of course too much time away from Tarzan can’t be good for him, but things have been pretty intense the past four days, and I know we said we are committed to Tarzan’s wellbeing first and foremost, but what you are suggesting is a huge step.”

“Of course, of course, I totally understand!” the professor said, “take the rest of the week to think. We can always continue with institutionalisation with regular visitation until you are ready. It’s just the earlier we can settle Tarzan into an environment he is comfortable with…”

“I know,” Maren quickly replied, not wanting the professor to belabour the point.

-

**Day 4, Tuesday Night. Maren’s POV**

They were back home now, and Elsa had restarted her pacing. She had been doing a lot of that since this whole endeavour began four days ago. Maren watched her from her seat, sipping the mug of hot chocolate she had made for Elsa that had gone untouched.

“Did you expect them to suggest something like that so soon?” Elsa asked.

“This time last week I was planning our vacation to Corona so we could escape our siblings’ nightmare invitation to the waterpark with their kids, so… no. I did not expect any of whatever is happening right now.”

Maren’s joke fell flat, as it only served to remind Elsa of how suddenly she had roped Maren into becoming a parent. Elsa winced with guilt.

“Elsa, I didn’t mean-”

“Gosh, Anna was right, wasn’t she? We’re being so impulsive with this! _I_ am being so impulsive with this.”

“Hold up, Elsa, you’re not telling me you’re having second thoughts?!”

Maren stood up from the couch and crossed her arms, surprised and disappointed at her wife.

“We did not just put a child through so much emotional labour for you to decide this is too much right now!” she pointed out to Elsa, louder and harsher than intended.

Elsa froze and studied Maren, eyes wide. Maren got why Elsa looked so shocked. Maren never raised her voice whenever Elsa brought up her anxious thoughts. Maren was always calm and patient, and sometimes that required intentional effort on Maren’s part, but she was always willing to put in the work. Maren was surprised at her own accusatory tone with Elsa too.

But she did not regret it. If Elsa had indeed changed her mind, they had just hurt a little boy deeply and Maren could not let Elsa off the hook.

“I am not having second thoughts, Maren,” Elsa said, voice steady and sure against Maren’s rising panic.

Her tone held no offense at Maren’s accusation.

“Right,” Maren heaved a sigh of relief, “sorry I accused you of that.”

“No, I get it. Sorry I freaked out too.”

“Then what is this about?”

They were both on edge, the emotions of the week starting to get to them. Maren decided to sit down again as she waited for Elsa to explain.

Elsa collapsed beside her on the couch, instinctively curling up against Maren.

“We _have_ been impulsive, Maren,” Elsa sighed, “we should have seen this coming, and we should have been ready.”

“How could we have predicted this homestay?”

“Of course there would be a homestay! It doesn’t matter that it is so soon. We should have been prepared! We should have equipped ourselves, prepped the house, read parenting books, so we can present ourselves in the best possible way to the orphanage!”

“Woah, I think we’re getting a bit ahead of ourselves here…”

“Maren, if anything like this morning happens when Tarzan is with us this weekend… it is over.”

Elsa groaned and flopped her head into her hands.

“We are not ready at all,” Elsa mumbled into her palms, voice muffled, “I should have planned ahead.”

“Hey, come on,” Maren gave Elsa a squeeze, “think about it, Elsa. How much could you _really_ have prepared? Like I said, it’s been four days since we started this journey. We just have to go with our gut. The orphanage certainly thinks we are doing everything right so far. Or they wouldn’t have suggested this.”

Maren smirked, and continued, “this is just a _wild_ guess, but with the amount they are spending on Tarzan, I kinda get the sense that they want only what’s best for him. And I guess that includes us now.”

Elsa laughed softly, even as she sighed, burrowing deeper into Maren’s embrace.

“Nothing’s going to be the same ever again, isn’t it? I mean, even if we don’t get to adopt Tarzan… we can’t pretend this never happened.”

“Elsa, don’t say that, you don’t know the outcome yet…”

And to think just two days ago it was Maren who was the one warning Elsa not to be too hopeful. She reined in her optimism and saw that Elsa did have a point.

“I guess…” Maren mused, trying to find solutions, “maybe it’s time we update our families? They’re all parents so they probably have lots of good advice for us. You know, on practical stuff like what to get for the house. And like you said, whether Tarzan becomes part of our family or not, our lives have already changed.”

Elsa groaned, slamming her forehead against Maren’s chest.

“Gods, my parents,” Elsa grumbled, “not looking forward to that conversation.”

Maren didn’t say anything. She actually loved Agnarr and Iduna a lot, but with Elsa’s complicated history with them she knew better than to voice her approval.

Instead she just said, “well, the sooner it’s done, the better. Then we can get back to Tarzan.”

-

**Day 5. Wednesday Afternoon.**

As it turned out, the Arendelles took the news much better than the Natturas did, which of course came as a nasty surprise to Maren.

The call had started off amicably enough, Elsa and Maren were back at the orphanage and had taken the opportunity when Tarzan went down for his nap to set up a massive video conference with everyone.

It required a lot of coordination, but soon the faces of all the adult family members lit up on Elsa’s laptop screen.

Elsa led the conversation, gripping tightly onto Maren’s hand under the table for support.

It was always a little unsettling to watch the Arendelles interact, as Elsa always seemed too much like a pupil presenting a report to her examiners. Even after five years of marriage, Maren wasn’t used to this Elsa. Posh and prim and so very restrained. So determined to hide herself and prove herself, so desperate to please.

Maren was grateful that Elsa and her relationship with Tarzan would never be like this.

“Essentially, Father, Mother, what we aim to achieve with this endeavour…” after about ten minutes of backstory Elsa was finally summarising, tense and mechanical, “… is a stable, secure home to ensure the best possible environment for Tarzan to -“

“Mum and dad,” Anna cut her off, “she and Maren are adopting.”

Paraphrasing for Elsa with an exasperated sigh, Anna concluded, “they love the boy and want to be his parents.”

Elsa clenched onto Maren’s fingers at Anna’s abrupt but effective announcement, her whole being rigid as she waited for her parents’ response.

Agnarr and Iduna merely stared.

Seventeen years-old Olaf looked up from his gaming console momentarily, “so I’m getting another nephew?”

“Yes, Olaf,” Elsa answered, voice quivering, eyes still fixed on her parents, “if all goes well.”

“Sweet,” he said, before returning to his game.

Eventually, a grin crept slowly across Agnarr’s face.

“Elsa, my dear,” he began, relief evident in his tone, “finally!”

That didn’t seem to relax Elsa at all.

“We all knew this was coming,” Iduna chimed in, “all these years you kept saying otherwise but we knew. Sooner or later, you’ll want kids. I am so proud of you and Honeymaren.”

“Like true Arendelles,” Agnarr added.

Elsa flinched.

They were not getting it at all. Maren squeezed Elsa’s hand to comfort her.

“Oh, don’t look so nervous,” her mother continued, “it’s only natural to want to be mothers. I’m sure the both of you will be fantastic.”

_Not the point not the point not the point._ Maren wanted to intervene, but didn’t know how to. She looked to Anna but could see Anna biting her lip to hold back any retort. Technically, Elsa’s parents were giving their blessing? So should they really be putting a stop to all this?

“Th-thank you, mum and dad,” was all Elsa said, managing a terse smile.

Maren decided to follow Elsa’s lead and not push it. Clearly, getting her parents to approve of adopting Tarzan was all that mattered, and Elsa didn’t care if her parents understood _why_.

“So how are you preparing for this?” Agnarr asked, sounding like a schoolteacher again.

“We… well,” Elsa stuttered, “we were just about to ask the orphanage if we could borrow some of their furniture and equipment for the homestay.”

“Borrow?” Iduna repeated, “Elsa, you’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

Elsa nodded eagerly, “Yes, mother, very.”

“Then just buy the best. Make sure your home is ready.”

“But we’re not even sure if our adoption would be successful… and buying seems like such a commit-”

“Elsa.”

Elsa snapped up straight. Maren had never heard Iduna so stern before, but she supposed Elsa’s rigid and strict upbringing could not be entirely blamed on Agnarr.

“It’s not going to be successful if you don’t give it your all,” Iduna admonished, “how can you say you’re sure about having him in your life on one hand while preparing for the possibility that he isn’t on the other? If you say he is your son, show the world he is your son.”

Huh. Okay, Maren kinda saw Iduna’s point. It was actually a really good one. But Maren’s heart was hammering from Iduna’s no-nonsense tone. The Arendelles always operated on an entirely different plane of logic and took everything so _seriously_. If that was Elsa’s upbringing this whole time… well, she just wanted to give Elsa a hug.

Agnarr nodded, agreeing with his wife.

“If he is going to become an Arendelle, he deserves only the best.”

“Yes, of course,” Elsa acquiesced, obedient, but also determined, “the very best.”

Maren lost track of the conversation for a bit as she tried to do some mental calculations about how much this was going to cost them. Not that she had to care about money ever since marrying Elsa, but Maren believed in being frugal regardless.

“…and then of course there is the issue of succession,” Agnarr was droning on, “but it’s just a form you have to sign.”

“Sure,” Elsa complied.

“I’m sorry, _succession?_ ” Maren cut in, drawn back into the conversation and speaking for the first time since the video call started.

“It’s just some paperwork, Maren,” Elsa turned to Maren to explain nonchalantly, “To rearrange the lineage of the House of Arendelle. To… umm… put Tarzan after me and before Anna.”

“Before Anna for what?” Maren narrowed her eyes.

Elsa looked a little embarrassed.

“The line of succession to the hypothetical throne of Arendelle,” she admitted in a low voice, looking like she recognised how ridiculous she sounded, “you know, in the extremely unlikely event that the city reinstates the crown.”

Maren laughed nervously.

“What the hell…?”

Elsa rolled her eyes and looked at the ground, “Maren, trust me, it’s not going to affect anything. Just something the courts like to keep on record. Occasionally some small fringe political party brings it up in parliament and then it is immediately forgotten. Really, the only people who care are historians at the university and… you know, people who watch our family as a hobby.”

“Which reminds me, the press,” Agnarr added.

“We’ll work something out,” Anna replied; as with the foundation Anna had taken over most of the family’s public relations, “when the time is right.”

Maren watched as Anna and Agnarr continued to discuss the details of their plan to tackle the press, and saw that Elsa was smiling to herself at the sight too. Maren could see the relief settling into her shoulders that her family seemed totally supportive of this decision, completely embracing Tarzan as their own.

Maren knew Elsa tried to downplay its significance but she could see that it meant a lot to Elsa that her parents, Agnarr especially, saw Tarzan as a legitimate heir to Elsa, given that they had a tendency to reject any form of family that wasn’t traditional.

She chanced a glance at her parents, who were silently listening in the whole time, knowing it would be her turn next to address their concerns. Her parents were way more liberal than the Arendelles, and Maren wasn’t worried about anything.

Until.

She saw their faces.

“Mum? Dad?” Maren blurted, causing Anna and Agnarr to stop talking.

Maren grinned, hoping her excitement would spread to her parents, “well, what do you think? Are you ready for a grandson or what?”

“Honeymaren,” Flora said.

_Shit._

Her mum knew how much Maren preferred the short version of her name.

She saw Flora exchange a glance with Hugo, before they nodded and Flora spoke again.

“May we… uh… speak to you in private?”

“Certainly, Flora,” Iduna said kindly, “we’ll catch up with all of you another time.”

“It’s been wonderful speaking to everyone,” Agnarr added, before turning to Elsa and Maren again, “I am so proud of the both of you. So proud.”

On any other occasion Maren would have been elated to hear that her father-in-law was _proud_ of her, but she was too confused about her parents’ reactions to care in that moment.

Iduna and Agnarr logged off. After some prompting from Anna, Olaf realised he was still on the call too and finally paused his game long enough to log off. Anna shook her head at her brother before logging off too, leaving Elsa and Maren with the Natturas.

There was a long silence.

“Well, _Uncle_ Ryder?” Maren tried, a little desperate now at the frosty reception.

“Yeah, it all sounds really great, Mare,” Ryder tried, voice unnaturally high and cracking with nerves.

He was a terrible liar.

Maren balled her hands into fists, starting to get frustrated with her family.

“Spit it out. What is it?” she shot at them.

“May we speak to you in private?” Flora repeated, looking sheepishly at Elsa.

“You are. It’s just Elsa and me here. You can say it to the both of us.”

Maren laced her arm around Elsa’s.

“Maren, please,” Flora urged again.

Elsa got the message. She knew Maren would never chase her away, so she stood up automatically.

“I should probably check on Tarzan. He may be up from his nap.”

She smiled at her in-laws, taking no offense, before leaving the room.

Elsa understood well the need for privacy even among family members, but Maren did not. Unlike Elsa, it was just not how she was raised. By the very people who were now being all shifty and secretive.

“What the hell is this?” she snapped at all three of them the moment Elsa closed the door behind her.

Perhaps she would have felt guilty for how rude she was being to her parents, especially considering how this was in immediate contrast to Elsa’s respect for Agnarr and Iduna just minutes ago, but she wanted answers.

“Maren,” her mother began cautiously, “we just don’t want you to make a big mistake.”

“A mistake?! Is that what you think this is?”

“It just feels awfully sudden. Four days, Maren? I thought you didn’t want kids.”

“ _Elsa_ didn’t want kids.”

“And you did?”

“Yes! Well, no, not really. I mean, it depended on how she felt about it. You always knew that. I thought you understood.”

“We did, sweetie. It’s just that… suddenly you’re agreeing to all this because _she_ wants a child now?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“What about you?”

“Not that it matters but-”

“It matters, Maren,” Ryder interrupted, “you are adopting a child too. You are becoming a parent. It changes your life.”

“She loves the boy, Ryder. No matter what my life will change. Her child is my child.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Hugo added his two cents.

Why did no one seem to understand anything today? First, with Elsa’s parents thinking they were doing this just because they wanted to experience motherhood, and now, with her parents not getting that while she wanted this too, it shouldn’t matter because she would do it all for Elsa if she had to.

“I. want. this,” Maren was gritting her teeth now, deciding to pull an Elsa and just agree with her family so she could get on with her life.

“Do you really?” Flora questioned, studying Maren closely, “because from the story Elsa was telling earlier, he seems a lot closer to Elsa than to you.”

Maren slammed her fist on the table.

“Why does it matter?!”

“Maren,” Flora said, voice gentle.

She was surprised her parents and brother did not raise their voices to meet hers. She tried to remember that the Natturas, and that technically included her, were a patient and understanding bunch.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and said as calmly as she could, “I love Tarzan too, you guys, and if I’m going to be his mother, I should not care whether he loves me back.”

“We just don’t want you…” Flora paused to find an appropriate word given her daughter’s testy state, “ _disappearing_ into a life you don’t actually want.”

“What does that mean?!”

“Maren, they are the _Arendelles_ ,” Flora sighed, “you saw seconds ago how they speak to each other. They’re lovely individuals, but together, let’s be frank here, shall we? They’re a mess. There’s so much baggage. Especially when it comes to having children.”

Maren groaned. She couldn’t dispute that.

“Iduna was a lot like us, you know,” Flora continued, “she didn’t change much either when she married Agnarr. Then Elsa and Anna came along, or Agnarr’s ‘heirs’, as you clearly saw from that completely _absurd_ succession discussion earlier. Soon, the whole family is whisked back to Arendelle to be raised in a castle and before you know it Iduna is scolding her fully-grown daughter for wanting to borrow a cot for a homestay instead of buying one. In thirty years that could be you.”

“It…They…. They weren’t exactly raised in a castle,” Maren knew it was a feeble rebuttal to what was clearly a rather strong argument.

“You know what I mean. I just don’t want you to become swallowed into a world and a lifestyle you don’t really want to be a part of.”

Maren saw where her mother was coming from. Even before this conversation, there was so much of Elsa’s interactions with her parents that made her uncomfortable. She sighed.

“Mum, Elsa is not like her parents. She’s not going to-, I mean, _we_ , are not going to raise Tarzan like that.”

“But why?” Ryder asked, “why are you even doing this? Why do you want to raise him?”

Ryder shifted uncomfortably, before adding in a slightly tentative tone, “it just kinda feels a bit like Elsa is doing this because it is expected of her.”

Maren closed her eyes to process this. Clearly Ryder was referring to Agnarr’s and Iduna’s elation that Elsa was following the path they laid out for her.

“Trust me, Ry, it isn’t like that. If it were, we would have done this _years_ ago. Do you have any idea how often the Arendelles bring up kids with Elsa?”

“Precisely.”

“And we wouldn’t choose _this_ boy if we are just doing this to please them.”

Ryder frowned.

“Now from that it doesn’t seem like you are very fond of this boy.”

“GOSH! RY!” Maren yelled, slamming a fist on the table, feeling inexplicably offended that her brother had dared to come so close to criticising Tarzan.

Ryder held up his hands in surrender to placate Maren.

“Now, now, Maren,” Hugo stepped in, ”there’s no need to shout. I think what your mother and brother are saying is, this is very unlike you, to be so wrapped up in the expectations and the lifestyle of the Arendelle family. It is very un-Northuldran too. Think about it, you are _Northuldran,_ and you are planning to raise a _Northuldran_ boy in Arendelle, as an _heir_ to Arendelle? It’s like you’re losing your roots. You’re taking away Tarzan’s too.”

“Hugo, that is absolutely not my point,” Flora was pinching the bridge of her nose now at her clueless husband.

Maren frowned at her father. She knew her parents, Dad especially, had always been very fearful of anything outside their isolated homeland.

“Maren,” Flora turned back to her daughter, eyes pleading, “ignore what your dad said. It doesn’t matter where you raise your son, as long as you give him the best possible home. It’s just…”

Maren softened a little at what seems to be a half-approval from her mother.

“You know, we have never said anything about your choices in life,” Flora started again, “we always trusted you to make the right decisions for yourself. And you have proven that you could, time and time again. Whether it was leaving Northuldra… moving to Arendelle… joining the police academy… they all brought us so much fear, but we let you be. Even when you wanted to be with John Smith… and later, with Elsa… we loved them both and we always let you be.”

“So why cant you let me be now? What’s changed? Just say it straight, no more beating around the bush.”

Flora frowned, finally having enough of her daughter’s abrasiveness.

“Fine. You know what it looks like to us? Elsa says no kids, and you go with it. For years and years. All of a sudden, Elsa says she wants this kid, and again, you go with it. A kid who only she has connected well with and has already busted your lip in the span of four days. A kid who, by your own admission, isn’t the easiest child to work with, and will require so much time and effort and money and dedication. Which will take away so much from what you claimed you wanted from your life. And once again, you are okay with this. Then now the Arendelles are swooping in and have begun telling you two how to run things. And you are _still_ okay with this.”

Flora shook her head, before concluding, “Everything just looks like _you_ are not getting to choose what you want to do with your life.”

“I am, Mum,” Maren shot back, tears hot on her eyes as she felt the sting of not being supported by her family for the first time in her life.

“I want this, and I will prove it to you.”

“Sweetie, we don’t want you to prove anything-”

Maren had enough, she slammed the laptop shut before her family could continue.

-

She rubbed at her eyes as she made her way back to Tarzan’s ward, feeling lost and betrayed. Her parents _never_ disapproved of anything she wanted to do. It was downright embarrassing that the Natturas were being more close-minded than the freaking _Arendelles_ , of all people.

Did they really think she had no agency in this? Did they really see Elsa and her family in such a negative light? Did they think Maren was some kind of chump who just did whatever her wife wanted? She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

She stood by the door and watched as Elsa and Tarzan read together. It was the Cars book again, and Elsa was explaining something to Tarzan in rich detail, and Maren had never seen Elsa so in love.

_Well, so what if all this was for Elsa?_ Maren thought. She already agreed to this even before she met Tarzan, didn’t she? She would go to the ends of the earth for that woman. That was her _choice_ , why couldn’t Mum, Dad and Ry see that?

_Fuck this._ She thought. The Natturas were not going to stop her from finding her happiness in the woman she loved. She wiped away her tears, fixed on a bright smile and entered the room.

Elsa and Tarzan looked up when she came in. Elsa immediately beamed, unaware of the mess that Maren had just returned from and evidently bursting to show Maren something.

“Honey, come here.”

“Yeah?” Maren replied, rushing to their side.

Elsa flipped to a page near the end of the book, nudging it back to Tarzan. Lightning Mcqueen was with his new friends, apologising for how arrogant and rude he had been in the earlier part of the story. A speech bubble with the word ‘sorry’ was printed above the red protagonist car.

“Sowwy.”

Maren gasped.

“Tarzan… did you just…?”

“He didn’t read,” Elsa explained, laughing, “I think we’ve just read it to him so many times that he’s associated this page with that word. But still, it’s cool isn’t it?”

“Sowwy.”

“Gosh, Tarzan!”

Tarzan was crawling over the book now, going towards Maren. He pawed his way up her, till he held Maren’s face in his hands.

“What’s up with you, kiddo?” Maren asked.

Tarzan stared deeply into her eyes, his face way too serious for a toddler. Ever so slightly, he traced a finger down Maren’s cheek. His fingertip rested on her cut lip.

Maren gave a small gasp at the sting, but didn’t break eye contact with the boy.

He was still looking at her with those familiar, deep, blue eyes.

“Sowwy,” Tarzan whispered.

Maren’s entire world narrowed down to the boy in her arms, as her heart hammered in her ears. This beautiful, marvellous, _perfect_ , little boy. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

“Oh my gosh,” Elsa’s whispers broke through to her, “Tarzan, my dear boy…. How…?”

“Elsa, he _understood_ the word. My gosh, is he some kind of prodigy?”

“I don’t know, Maren, but more importantly, he _knew_ he hurt you and he _cares_ about it! Oh Tarzan, you _wonderful_ boy!”

Elsa rushed over and showered Tarzan with kisses all over. He squealed and giggled in Maren’s arms.

And Maren realised she was lying to herself earlier.

_None_ of this was for Elsa. She could see it clear as day now.

Tarzan was her son too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know 18 months is TOO YOUNG to understand apologies. I know, I know. I googled.  
> But this scene was one of the very first ones I envisioned for the fic and I couldn’t let it go. I tried to delete it and edit, but I couldn’t. So it stays. Please assume fanfiction logic to read this part.
> 
> All the Elsamaren arguments so far have fizzled out and been resolved simply instead of escalating into full blown angst. I have to remind myself while writing their interactions that this is a couple in a successful, happy marriage. I can’t do the misunderstandings and poor communication that provided the slowburn that resulted in 2 weeks to a confession, a 12-month long proposal and two wedding attempts. 
> 
> But I still want to challenge myself to write in a slowburn for an established couple, since I have to keep to a unifying style for the logs. One of the potential conflicts has already been introduced from an unlikely source: the supposedly open-minded Natturas. And we thought Agnarr and Iduna would have been the problem AGAIN, didn’t we?  
> While utterly misguided, Agnarr and Iduna will be the supportive ones this fic. Interactions between them and Elsa are still tense though. After all, this is referencing the canon relationship. Maren cannot see why her parents are apprehensive at all, because this is the first time she has ever encountered resistance from her very supportive parents. But I do believe that the Natturas would react this way, given how I’ve written them as outsiders-fearing Northuldrans whose worst fear would be their daughter losing her identity.
> 
> And as we all know in real life, in-laws always get along…. Until a grandkid is at stake….
> 
> Cheers!  
> Blackthorn
> 
> P.S. On a lighter note, TARZAN IS GOING HOME! You guys have wanted him out of the hospital asap hahaha. Probably chapter 9 or 10 will be the homestay weekend.


	7. Clearing the Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys asked how old are Elsa and Honeymaren?  
> I'll reply you but I think others might be interested too:  
> Quarantine follows Frozen 2, so they were 24 then.  
> Engagement = 25  
> Wedding = 26  
> That makes them ~31 years old in Baby.
> 
> Thanks for reading and for the kind words! Hope you enjoy this chapter - Elsa deals with the aftermath of the tense Nattura video call.
> 
> P.S.  
> PLEASE CHECK OUT 'Merida Comes Back' by Fro_Elsamaren_zen if you want a lovely, lovely expansion of the Logs universe. It is an adorable fic.

**Day 5. Wednesday Evening. Elsa’s POV.**

Elsa paused at the door to her apartment, taking a few deep breaths to gather herself. It had been a long day and she didn’t think it was going to be over anytime soon.

While she had taken the week off, there were some meetings with clients she could not reschedule this last minute and she had one such meeting this morning. After that, she had rushed off to the orphanage to spend the afternoon with Tarzan. Knowing that they had so much to do in preparation for the homestay over the weekend, Elsa and Maren had split the work and Maren was tasked with prepping the house while Elsa was at work and with Tarzan.

Between planning all that out, Elsa did not have time to bring up Maren’s conversation with her parents. Judging by the nervous looks and the fact that the Natturas had preferred to speak to Maren without her around, Elsa didn’t think it went well. On top of that Maren had returned to Tarzan’s room with slightly puffy eyes and Elsa knew how Maren usually cried only when no one was looking.

But the weird thing was, Maren left the orphanage unnaturally chirpy, and was laser-focused on getting things ready for the homestay, giving Elsa no chance to probe about what had happened.

She sighed and pushed open the door, trying to see if should could break through Maren’s forced happiness and get to the truth. When Maren helped Elsa open up, Maren had always made it seem so easy.

“Babe,” Maren greeted immediately, a grin on her face that looked completely out of place but was somehow exactly what Elsa expected, “look what I’ve done.”

There was a new toddler’s cot set up in the middle of their living room, and Maren leaned against one side of it, tucking the screwdriver behind her ear. She folded her arms, looking proud of herself.

“Wow, Maren, that’s beautiful! And you built it all by yourself?”

“Of course. Got it right on the first try, even. You got yourself quite a catch, don’t you think? A wife who’s great in bed, in the kitchen, and is also freaking handy.”

“And messy,” Elsa teased, eyeing the explosion of boxes and instruction sheets and tools around the rest of the apartment.

“Yeah, well, got to leave something for you to do. So you don’t feel left out,” Maren quipped back without missing a beat.

Clearly, she wasn’t too affected by yesterday’s video call to keep up with the banter.

“How very considerate,” Elsa set her bag and their dinner down on the counter, “what else did you get?”

“Baby-proofing kits. I baby-proofed the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, both bedrooms. Every sharp corner and knob and lever I could find.”

Elsa looked at the kitchen cabinets, all with complicated white plasticky contraptions on them that would probably require a million steps to open.

“Are those really necessary?” Elsa pointed to the highest cabinets.

“It’s Tarzan. Of course.”

Elsa laughed, “I guess you’re right.”

In spite of her teasing, Maren started to clean up in the living room.

“How was Tarzan today?”

“Much better. They haven’t got him to stomach dairy yet. But he took some fruits and juices today.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“Professor Porter recommends we stick to plant-based for him this weekend,” Elsa’s eyes landed on the pyramid of baby food jars on the kitchen island, noticing they were all pureed fruits and vegetables, “and… I see you already figured that out.”

Maren merely shrugged.

But Elsa was amazed at how all of this was coming so instinctively and naturally to Maren. With Elsa, it was just Tarzan who seemed to bring it out in her. But Maren was _always_ good with children.

Which didn’t explain why the Natturas would have anything negative to say about Maren becoming a mother. And Elsa was reminded about the task she had at hand.

“Anyway, Maren, when we’re done,” Elsa began, as she joined her wife in the living room to clear up the space, “I was hoping we could talk about yesterday?”

Maren stiffened, but Elsa could not see her face as she was crouched over a box by the corner.

“What… what did your family think about the adoption?”

“They…” Maren began quietly, “they’ll warm to it. Eventually.”

Elsa felt her gut clench with nerves. So it’s true. The Natturas disapproved. She figured she could guess why.

“What did they say?”

Maren sighed, kicking some Styrofoam peanuts out of her way, “just Northuldrans being Northuldrans. Scared of any change. They freaked out last time when I wanted to leave home too.”

Elsa could tell that wasn’t all of it.

“Did they say why they were concerned?”

“Like I said. They just don’t get it for now. It’s always like that at first,” Maren was in the kitchen, peering into the takeaway bag, stealing a chip, “did you get tartare sauce?”

Of course Elsa did. It was Maren’s favourite dip and Elsa would never forget. Maren knew to never need to ask. So Elsa said, “Maren, don’t change the- ”

“Drop it, Elsa,” Maren finally snapped out of her cheeriness, “they’ll warm to the idea eventually, okay? I know it. They just have to meet Tarzan.”

Elsa realised there could only be one reason Maren was being this evasive; the Natturas had said something negative about her or Tarzan, or both.

Their misgivings were likely valid, Elsa thought. She wouldn’t be offended. All of this was her idea, after all. She was putting their daughter through all these huge life changes.

“Warm to Tarzan like how I warmed to him?” Elsa asked.

“Yes, exactly. Who could resist that little dude? What kinda fish did you get?”

Maren was still rummaging through their dinner.

“Like how you didn’t even need to meet him to know?” Elsa slipped in.

Elsa hated herself for setting that trap. But she really needed to clear the air with Maren and get to the bottom of Maren’s true feelings. Why _was_ Maren adopting Tarzan? Did she want this?

Maren saw through Elsa immediately, hands pausing in unwrapping the foil to her dinner as she narrowed her eyes.

“We’ve been through this,” Maren’s tone was rarely this dangerous with Elsa, “you know why it was how it was for me. I want this. Don’t question it.”

“Yes, but…”

Maren closed her eyes and let out a long breath.

“Elsa. I had a very long day. I know I boasted about my handiwork,” Maren thrust her hand in Elsa’s face to reveal an angry purple thumb, “but I exaggerated and also smashed my thumb and stubbed _both_ toes. I even got papercuts from _reading_ the damn instructions. All for Tarzan. Voluntarily and willingly. So please, no mind games. This is between my family and me and you have nothing to worry about. Especially when it comes to my intentions with adopting Tarzan. They are as genuine as this thumb is killing me.”

Elsa couldn’t help but laugh. Maren was being secretive, but she was being so charming about it. It was infuriating. She pulled Maren in by the hand Maren had shoved in her face, kissing the sore thumb and the papercuts before wrapping Maren in a hug, Maren’s injured hand pressed against her heart.

“Alright, alright, I’ll let it go.”

-

Elsa couldn’t let it go. But now, for an entirely different reason.

At this point she was a hundred and one percent sure the Natturas had been upset because they believed that Elsa had forced Maren into adopting, but she also believed Maren when she said she wanted this, so Hugo’s and Flora’s opinion wasn’t what was bothering her. She knew Maren was right and the Natturas just needed time. She could handle a few months of their disapproval.

The issue now, was that Maren was being extremely enthusiastic about the upcoming homestay. Elsa had mistaken it previously as Maren trying to hide her disagreement with her family, but she now saw it for what it was – genuine, unbridled excitement.

And she knew she should be happy, and Elsa hated that she was always so difficult and had to question and doubt everything. Maren _already_ said no mind games tonight but there was just something a bit unsettling about the way Maren was going about everything.

They were in the guest bedroom now and had pushed the bed and Maren’s study table to one side so they could wheel in Tarzan’s cot and make room for the cameras from the orphanage.

“Looks right, doesn’t it?” Maren said, folding her arms as she surveyed the room, “I always figured if we ever made this room a nursery that the cot would fit right there so the sun doesn’t stream into it.”

The unsettling feeling was back. The subtle way in which Maren had phrased her words that made Elsa’s stomach churn.

_I always figured if we ever made this room a nursery…._

Maren must not have realised what she said, for she was already heading out of the room, continuing to map out the house.

“The highchair should come tomorrow morning,” Maren prattled on as Elsa trailed her into the hall, “I don’t know if it’ll keep someone as agile as Tarzan in but I got the sturdiest one. It’s actually from the shop I recommended to Ryder last time but it was a little above his price range.”

There it was again. _The shop I recommended to Ryder last time…_

“You don’t mind, do you?” Maren turned to ask Elsa.

“Huh?”

“We didn’t set a budget, but I figured since your mother said...”

“Sure, if you think it’s the best one.”

“It definitely is,” Maren smiled and nodded, reaching for her phone to check her messages, “I’m just gonna check what time they said they would deliver it… I have free priority delivery because I’ve been a member of their shop since Ry and Mo said they were having Tala.”

All this from a woman who claimed she was fine never having kids.

“You’ve given a lot of thought to this, haven’t you?” Elsa finally asked, unable to silence her worst fears any longer.

“For sure. I’ve been thinking of nothing else the past five days. I mean, haven’t you?”

“Feels like you’ve given this more than five days of thought.”

Maren looked up from her phone to face Elsa. She took a deep breath, jaw set as she watched Elsa closely, expression hard.

“What do you mean now, Elsa?”

And Elsa knew she was being difficult, but still, it felt strange for her questions to be met with uncharacteristic rudeness and impatience from Maren.

“I meant, why are you a member of a shop selling kids’ stuff?”

“Where do you think those wooden blocks for Luke’s and Leia’s birthday came from? We’re _aunts_ , Elsa. _Great_ aunts. Who always have the best gifts.”

“And imagining the guest room as a nursery? What is that all about?”

“I…I just… we don’t exactly have a lot of guests over. It makes little sense that we own a guest room. So when I’m in there doing my work, you know, I look around, and well, the mind wanders!”

“To what life would be like if the guest room were a nursery?”

“Or a game room! Or a gym. Even a walk-in closet, believe it or not. _Me,_ thinking of owning a walk-in closet. These are all thoughts I have entertained before. For fun. They aren’t supposed to mean anything.”

“Still. You thought about it. You thought about having kids.”

“Well, yes! I don’t know why you are acting so betrayed. You knew I thought about it.”

“Not to this extent! You said you were fine either way. But clearly, you never were. Daydreaming about nurseries? Browsing toy shops? Understanding the adoption process and knowing exactly what and how to prepare for a homestay at short notice?”

“DAMN IT, ELSA!” and Maren slammed a fist on the kitchen island, earning a squeak from Elsa.

Maren hissed as her sore thumb made contact with the table, cursing under her breath. Elsa instinctively pulled Maren’s hand to her, rubbing over the thumb to soothe it. Maren let her, closing her eyes as she tried to calm down.

“Elsa. What the hell are you talking about?” Maren sounded more confused than anything, “So it’s a crime now for trying to be the best mother I can be for Tarzan?”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just that… I trusted you, Maren. When you said you were happy being just us. How could you hide how much you wanted a child from me?”

Maren yanked her hand out of Elsa’s grasp.

“For fuck’s sake!” she exclaimed, storming off, “I didn’t I didn’t I didn’t! I DIDN’T HIDE ANYTHING! First Mum and Dad and Ryder. Now you too? Why doesn’t anybody believe me when I have been nothing but honest with what I want for myself!”

Maren reached the bathroom and stared daggers at Elsa.

“You have been very unfair to me,” was all she said, before the door slammed and Elsa heard the shower running.

-

Elsa felt terrible for upsetting Maren so much with her incessant questioning the whole night. And all she had intended to do when she came home was try and be there for Maren after whatever happened with her parents. Elsa knew she had completely failed on that front. And she was angry with herself for letting her anxieties get in the way of being a supportive wife, as it always did. To think she even had an example to follow, with how Maren had been so effortlessly her rock throughout the years of disapproval they faced from Agnarr and Iduna regarding their relationship.

Elsa groaned. Maren deserved better.

When Maren was done simmering angrily in her bath, Elsa was waiting for her with a mug of hot milk and some chocolate biscuits.

“Sorry,” Elsa mumbled.

Maren eyed the treats on the table and burst into a small laugh.

“Elsa. Those are things I get you when I piss you off. But I am not you. You have the palate of a child when you are upset. And right now I need a drink.”

Elsa watched as Maren poured herself a stiff glass of scotch.

“Gosh, I’m terrible at this, aren’t I?” Elsa groaned, throwing her head in her hands.

Maren laughed some more, the bath and alcohol clearly putting her in a much better mood.

“Terrible at what? Frankly, I’m still confused about exactly what you have been trying to achieve this whole night. Like I said, no mind games, please.”

“I was trying to make you feel better,” Elsa mumbled into her hands.

“Sorry?”

Elsa lifted her face so her words wouldn’t be muffled, “Something happened between you and your family. I was trying to make you feel better after that.”

“By questioning all my intentions? First about whether I even wanted to adopt Tarzan and then whether I was lying to you about being happy without kids?”

“Urgh. Maren. I’m sorry.”

“Because I wouldn’t have guessed any of that was an attempt to make me feel better about the shit Mum and Dad were putting me through yesterday.”

“I said I’m sorry.”

Maren softened, putting her drink down and plopping on the couch beside Elsa, pulling her in for a hug.

When they broke apart, Maren sighed, trying to find her words.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have been so evasive about my parents.”

“No, it’s fine. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Forcing you to share what they said was never my intention.”

“It isn’t that. You know I’m not my best when family gets complicated… and my parents have never been so… disappointing… so I don’t know… I freaked out. I dint know how I should… uh… tell you what they said. That was it, basically.”

“I’m not going to be offended, Maren. Trust me.”

Finally, that seemed to be the first right thing Elsa said that night. Nervously, Maren began.

“They said you were forcing me into this rushed adoption. First, you didn’t want kids and I had to go along with it and now we are pursuing this just because you want to. They think we are fulfilling some sort of Arendelle family expectation and think I have no say in this.”

Elsa was more relieved than anything to learn she was right. These were all understandable sentiments coming from the Natturas. But she could see why Maren would be afraid to tell her.

“I see.”

“It’s bullshit, Elsa,” Maren added in a rush, “I am so, so, sorry. I tried to explain to them but…”

“I am not mad.”

Maren let out a relieved, but slightly perplexed chuckle, “You’re not?”

“I understand. I would think so too, in their shoes,” Elsa swallowed, before asking tentatively, “but they aren’t right, are they?”

“Of course not! That’s exactly why I was so upset earlier when you kept asking and asking whether I wanted Tarzan and then whether I pretended for years to not want kids!”

Maren looked down and said very softly, almost as though she was embarrassed to admit her next thought.

“It all just made me feel very stupid.”

Now, that was completely unexpected. If anything, Elsa thought Maren had been incredibly selfless.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I don’t know… when my parents said those things about me, about our relationship… and then I come back to you who’s looking at me like I’m absolutely _idiotic_ for just going along with whatever made you happy… well, it was starting to make me feel like I was some kind of brainless, spineless, useless... doormat.”

“Maren,” Elsa sighed, feeling like she wanted to cry, “you are not any of those things.”

“Frankly, Elsa? When we first brought up Tarzan, I was only going to adopt him for you. What did you expect? I said yes without even meeting the kid.”

Maren played with the hem of her shirt as she continued with her confession, “and all these years when we decided no kids? Part of it was because you said so.”

Maren straightened, looking defiant and defensive, “But what is so wrong with either of those decisions, Elsa?”

Maren was looking at her with pleading eyes.

“What is so wrong with being happy when you are? With wanting to spend my life with you, _whatever_ that entails? It isn’t even a sacrifice, because I _want_ this. I want a life, a family with you. Whether it’s just the two of us, or whether it’s with a minivan of children. It doesn’t matter. No one loves me like you do.”

“Maren.”

“So when all of you questioned all my life decisions in quick succession, one after the other, from yesterday, even after I explained myself… even after I have told you nothing but the truth since we got together… I dunno…. I just felt like you all thought I was some kind of _fool,_ for wanting things this way, and I snapped. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice earlier.”

“Honeymaren,” was all Elsa managed, overcome with emotion.

“I do think about what my life would be like if we had kids, Elsa. It shouldn’t surprise you, given how I have entertained the idea of becoming a mother since I was a girl. And you knew that. Before you married me. Remember that day with our parents at Arendelle Castle, when we were engaged? When I said you are the only family I will ever need, I meant it. I wouldn’t force you into a life you don’t want, and I can’t imagine having kids with someone else. I never want to be a mother if it isn’t with you, Elsa. So if Tarzan never came along… if it was just us, like it has always been, it would have still been perfect.”

Maren sighed, giving Elsa a squeeze.

“Why is it so difficult for you to believe that someone could be happy, being with just you?”

Elsa stared at Maren for a long while, before a small smile forced its way onto Elsa’s face at how obvious the answer should have been to her wife. Elsa brought a hand to her temples and sighed.

“Maren, let’s not open that can of worms again, shall we?”

Finally, with that, Maren laughed. They certainly have had this conversation before. Too many times. She tilted Elsa’s chin so Elsa looked directly at her.

“You see?” Maren replied, her voice gentle with the brightness that returned always so easily to her, “it’s the witty self-deprecation for me. I _love_ being with you. We were happy. _Are_ happy. Even when we argue. We have always been enough for each other. I never wanted anything more than us before, but I do now. And yeah I was adopting for you, but so what? I would do _anything_ for you. But it doesn’t matter now, because I am doing this for myself _too_. And, I will _always_ do this for Tarzan.”

Maren gave a sheepish laugh, “It’s a confusing mess of words that probably makes no sense, but it is what it is. Please, _please,_ tell me you get it.”

Elsa rested her hands on the back of Maren’s neck to pull her closer. She rested their foreheads together, laughing softly as love for her wife threatened to make her burst into tears.

“I get it, Maren. _Gosh_ , I love you so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY GOSH. Elsa is HIGH maintenance. Or at least my version of her. And dammit, I relate so hard. Is this becoming an author-insert fic now? Just kidding. It was always an author-insert fic. So leave a comment and kudos or don’t, do what you want in that aspect… BUT if any of you have a spare Honeymaren Nattura lying around and don’t hand her over after reading this you are dead to me. (kidding)
> 
> Cheers!  
> Blackthorn
> 
> P.S. This chapter exists because I wanted to write a chapter where Elsa is there for Maren. Past few chapters with Elsa driving the adoption, it has always been Maren playing the supportive role. Somehow it transformed into this angst filled chapter where Elsa questions everything and Maren has to make her feel better again. OOPS. To make up for it the next chapter is smutty. Resolving an argument, Thorn-style. Horny-Elsa SHOWING instead of telling Romantic-Maren how much she means to her. As you might have noticed, next up is Maren’s POV. So it will be an explicit chapter in MAREN-POV. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? 
> 
> I know I said Baby Logs is less adulty, but I will update the tags accordingly. Giving ample warning now.


	8. Show Not Tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what it would be like if I heed my own advice and do what the chapter title says when it comes to my writing style.  
> Anyway.
> 
> This chapter is rated **Explicit**.
> 
> AND Maren’s point of view! Proud of her, proud of me.
> 
> I know this fic has been less adulty than previous logs, but I rated it M because I didn’t trust myself to stick to T. For readers who want to skip the smut, no worries, there isn’t any plot here. It’s just Elsa rewarding Maren with a cookie for her tireless support.
> 
> Cheers!  
> Blackthorn
> 
> P.S. Look at the cool new tags to the fic!  
> Credit to Pinkshiori for 'High Maintenance Elsa' and T2Boy2 for 'Honeymaren Needs a Drink'. Yall. Always cracking me up. Love you guys.

**Day 5. Wednesday Night. Maren’s POV.**

“I get it, Maren. _Gosh_ , I love you so much,” Elsa said.

And Maren’s heart soared, like it always did, when she heard Elsa say that. And Elsa sometimes did a little shaky gasp at the end, as though she herself was in awe of her own feelings, and when Maren heard it she couldn’t stand it any longer, she leaned in to kiss Elsa.

“Love you too- Ow!” she gasped, pulling back immediately.

“Maren,” Elsa grimaced at the metallic taste on her lips, “you’re still bleeding.”

Maren touch her stitched lip and wiped away the little drops of blood, more frustrated than in pain, “Damn it!”

“I’ll get you some gauze,” Elsa started to get up from the couch.

Maren pulled Elsa back down by her wrist, and Elsa landed on Maren’s lap with a tiny yelp.

“No no no, stay,” Maren wrapped her arms around Elsa’s waist, “it’s just a tiny cut. You’ve seen me in worse shape.”

“Tiny?” Elsa laughed in spite of herself, “Maren, the professor had to put in a stitch-Oh!”

Maren had nuzzled into the crook of Elsa’s neck, leaning up to nibble at her earlobe, which caused Elsa to lose her train of thought momentarily.

“See? Maybe I can’t kiss you but I can do other things,” Maren murmured into Elsa’s skin.

“Not-not why I’m concerned,” Elsa let out a breathy moan as she felt Maren’s hand snake under her blouse to the small of her back.

“Uh-huh… so what are you concerned about?”

“It’s… I should get you… you’re hurt… _Oh gosh..._ ”

Elsa dropped her forehead to Maren’s shoulder because Maren had grazed her fingers along the underside of her bra, and Maren grinned at how Elsa was still so _sensitive_ even after all these years together.

“You should what?” she teased, as her hand returned to Elsa’s back.

“Never mind.”

“Mm-hmm,” Maren hummed in agreement, feeling pleased that she was able to quiet Elsa’s overly-anxious mind, “things heal with time, Elsa, stop fretting over me. I’ve always said you worry too- SHIT!”

Maren exclaimed in pain, cutting short her smug preaching, probably for the better. She had been working on Elsa’s bra when the sharp metal clasp snagged on her sore thumb. It stung so bad. She could feel tears prick at her eyes as she held back further swearwords, not wanting to look stupid after all that bravado and let on how much pain she was in.

“Maren! What the…?”

Elsa reached behind to pull Maren’s hand to the front so she could study it.

“It’s fine,” Maren grumbled, trying to tug her hand out of Elsa’s firm grasp, the scrutinising gaze feeling too much, “Stop… just… leave it, okay? Urgh!”

Elsa looked between Maren’s purple thumb, with the several papercuts accompanying the fingers beside it, and up at Maren’s face, which must have looked embarrassed and petulant, because she burst into laughter.

Maren tried to bite back her pout.

“Awww,” Elsa crooned, the sarcasm deliciously biting, dropping Maren’s hand gently so she could cup her wife’s face in both hands, “No lips and no hands tonight… you poor thing.”

“Fuck you!”

“You wish you could.”

Maren slammed her head back against the couch, groaning, “you know I did this all for Tarzan right? You’re being mean.”

“You love it when I’m mean. Too bad you can’t do anything about it.”

“That kid is cockblocking me before he’s even here.”

Maren could hear the sulkiness seeping through her words even as the woman above her dissolved into giggles. Elsa shifted in Maren’s lap, turning to face her properly, the shy giggling front replaced with a smooth confidence as she swung her legs to straddle Maren’s thighs.

“Is he now?” Elsa challenged.

Slender, _uninjured,_ hands that were previously resting on Maren’s shoulders slid down her front to quickly undo her buttons, Elsa’s eyes never leaving hers, not needing to look at what she was doing.

“You seem to have forgotten that while you may be thus _incapacitated,”_ Elsa bit and sucked on her lower lip, before releasing it with a soft pop, just to prove a point to Maren, “I am not.”

Maren felt her mouth dry at the sight of the set of luscious lips right in front of her. It felt like a cruel trick played by the universe that she could not kiss them in that moment.

Elsa leaned down, silver hair framing Maren’s face, as her breath danced over Maren’s lips, _so close,_ but not making contact. Elsa pushed Maren’s blouse off her shoulders, her cold hands coming into contact with bare skin as her fingers fiddled with Maren’s bra straps.

“What are you doing to me, Elsa? _Gods,_ ” Maren choked out with a strangled cry.

Elsa was about to kiss down her neck when she paused, although she did not pull back.

“Oh? You want me to stop?”

And there was a real threat in those words, as under her soft and kind exterior Elsa had always had a cruel streak, so Maren wasted no time in grovelling.

“No, not at all, _please_.”

Maren could feel Elsa’s smile against her neck as she pressed in for a kiss, the curve of her lips hot against her skin.

Elsa nibbled against her and sucked, first gently, and then _hard._

“Ah!”

Maren shot up off the back of the couch, pushing herself forwards into Elsa. In that moment Elsa seized the opportunity and slipped her hand behind, deftly unclasping Maren’s bra in a flash. Maren groaned as she felt the garment come loose.

“See how it’s done, Maren?”

Maren was a proud woman, she would _never_ let anyone know how much her wife’s patronising tone turned her on, but from the glint in Elsa’s eyes, she could tell Elsa already knew.

Elsa pushed Maren’s blouse and bra off her arms, Maren helping her along.

“It only took me a second,” Elsa continued to tease, “and I didn’t even have to look.”

Maren gripped Elsa’s waist hard at that, grinding her down on her lap.

“Just get on with it.”

Elsa stopped gloating the moment she felt Maren push a thigh up between her legs, throwing her head back in a silent gasp. Maren grinned, feeling happy she could still do _some_ things. Elsa took over again, moving her hips to her own rhythm as she dry-humped against Maren.

“Also if you’re so good at it, take your own bra off,” Maren added, “show me a thing… heh, or two.”

She fully expected a cutting retort, or at least some punishment for that terrible double entendre, given how Elsa’s been tonight, but instead Elsa nodded obediently, biting her lip and closing her eyes as she rocked against Maren. Never breaking rhythm, she reached for the hem of her top and pulled it over her head before tossing it to the side, the bra following immediately after.

Maren gulped, more so at Elsa’s sudden compliance, although the sight before her was pretty sweet too. She watched in awe as Elsa’s chest heaved with the effort of grinding against her.

“Honeymaren…” and Elsa’s lips was back at the crook of her neck again, “I hope you know…,” quivering pants were breaking up her words, “how… how I see you…”

Her skin burned as Elsa peppered searing kisses down her neck to her shoulder and chest, “you’ve been so… _gosh,_ Maren, you’ve been so _amazing_ , and _patient…_ so understanding…”

Maren could feel a blush spreading from her cheeks up to her ears and down over her neck and chest. She didn’t know if it was Elsa’s words or actions that were doing the trick, but both together was too much in the best way.

Maren intended to savour it. Elsa was Maren’s favourite contradiction. She was proper and distant in public, but expressive and affectionate in private. She was one of the most intelligent and eloquent people Maren knew, but conveying her feelings was incomprehensibly challenging for her, which meant she was extremely conservative, borderline stingy even, with her praise for anyone, Maren included. So on the rare occasions when Elsa was being this effusive with her compliments, it would always catch Maren off guard.

She didn’t know how to react, so she settled with just basking in Elsa’s attentiveness, trying to hear through the pounding in her ears so she wouldn’t miss these appreciative words from Elsa.

Elsa’s hands were _everywhere_ , even as her mouth shifted to Maren’s ear as she continued to talk.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, how can you _say_ you would do anything to make me happy? And _mean_ it. Proven it even. _Anything,_ Maren. Who would _do_ things like that?”

Elsa palmed Maren’s breasts, her breath hitching in a little gasp as she ground down hard against Maren.

“Els- don’t… don’t question it again…” Maren whimpered, overwhelmed and vulnerable under Elsa’s ministrations, “I can’t… please.”

“I’m not. I just… _dammit_ … I love you so much and I don’t even know how to… I need you to see… I have to repay…”

“Not a transaction, Elsa.”

“You’ve been so good to me,” Elsa kissed down Maren’s neck, “so good to Tarzan,” she nipped at Maren’s collarbone, “so good to everyone. So, so good. You’re just a _good_ person, Honeymaren.”

Elsa groaned, sounding almost exasperated by this fact, and that alone made Maren want to melt into the sofa. It was a lot.

“Fuck,” was all Maren managed, running her palm down Elsa’s back.

Maren could tell from Elsa’s faltering rhythm that she was close, and only from riding Maren over both their clothes. It was the hottest thing she had ever seen.

Her hands slipped back down to Elsa’s waist. But before she could hold Elsa down to take her through her peak, Elsa pushed off Maren, forcing Maren’s thighs apart as she knelt between Maren’s legs.

Maren didn’t even think Elsa herself realised she was that close to her own edge, with how much attention Elsa was paying to her. Elsa took one of Maren’s nipples in her mouth and sucked hard.

“Ah!”

Maren bucked into Elsa, legs wrapping around Elsa’s torso to lock her in place. Maren didn’t even notice when Elsa had time to undo the buttons of her jeans, or how she even managed the particular manoeuvre with how tightly she was clamping her legs around Elsa, feet digging into the small of Elsa’s back.

Elsa was tugging her jeans and underpants down now, emitting a tiny desperate whine when it got stuck under Maren’s bum.

Maren gave a shaky laugh as she released Elsa to lift herself slightly off the couch. Elsa yanked her clothes down her legs so roughly the denim burned on its way off.

Not long after Maren kicked away the obstructing material was Elsa back between her legs, fingers digging into her thighs as she nudged them apart. Maren couldn’t help but arch forwards, her butt teetering on the edge of the couch by now with how desperately she wanted to meet Elsa’s lips.

Of all the moments in time, Elsa chose that very moment to pause, staring between Maren’s legs. Maren groaned in frustration and pushed herself up to look down at her, something snarky almost leaving her lips to goad Elsa into action, when she caught sight of Elsa’s expression.

It was _soft_. And there was something more than love in those eyes. Trust. Faith. And _awe._ Awe. Nobody’s ever looked at Maren like Elsa did. And the fact that it was Elsa made even less sense to Maren. Elsa was a _goddess_ in Maren’s eyes, why would she be awed by someone as ordinary as herself?

It was silent except for Maren’s needy pants, but Maren swore she could hear Elsa’s words ringing in her ears as Elsa’s face remained an open book of her thoughts about Maren.

_You’re just a good person, Honeymaren._

The rawness in her loving gaze almost hurt.

“El-Elsa…?”

Maren ran a tentative finger down the side of Elsa’s jaw, feeling a protective urge to check in. That seemed to snap Elsa out of her reverie, and she shook her head to clear it.

“Sorry,” Elsa mumbled with a small laugh, a blush dusting her cheeks, “I just love you so much.”

And then Elsa nuzzled against the junction where Maren’s thigh met her hip, humming in bliss and looking like she did not want to be anywhere else but here, kneeling between Maren’s legs and Maren’s heart threatened to burst out of her chest.

Elsa looked up to meet Maren’s eyes as she dipped down, tasting her folds, with a long, firm lick.

“Fuuuuu….” Maren choked out, hands gripping onto the cushions to stop herself from bucking hard into Elsa’s face and causing an injury.

Elsa didn’t look away, those sharp, clear, blue eyes staring straight into Maren’s soul as she worked her jaw against Maren. The devotion in those eyes were just so pure it almost dazzled Maren into closing her own eyes to avoid its glare.

Just to have a handle on her hammering emotions, or find _something_ to anchor herself, Maren placed a hand on Elsa’s head, enjoying the feel of the silky blonde locks between her fingers.

Her hand on Elsa’s head _changed_ Elsa’s demeanour immediately, and Elsa dove in deeper with increased fervour, finally closing her eyes to give her work her full attention.

It was again another rare thing for Elsa to relish in Maren’s guidance when they were in similar positions in the past, for they both preferred to dominate and tease when giving pleasure. Elsa’s currently iron grip on Maren’s thighs to keep her in place was an obvious indication of that fact. But Elsa was being so _pliant_ , so unabashedly dedicated to Maren, so desperate to show Maren how much she meant to her since she could not find the words to express it, that Maren could not resist taking the lead.

Applying a little more than gentle pressure, she nudged Elsa firmer into her, _feeling_ more than hearing Elsa keen at the force of her hand against the back of her head. And with that Maren was already _so close._

“Don’t stop,” Maren moaned, sounding more pleading than commanding, “don’t freaking stop…”

Elsa eased two fingers into Maren, the slide in so gentle it almost felt like worship, and Maren wanted to explode.

Elsa was moving her fingers in and out now, each movement still slow and coaxing. With how tender she was being it shouldn’t be anywhere near enough for Maren, but the reverence apparent in Elsa’s actions was causing her pleasure to build and build. And with every push and pull from those talented fingers, with every lick and suck and nibble, it was all just so _deliberate,_ all just for Maren and only Maren, and it was all just so much.

Elsa was so good to her _too_ , surely, she knew that right?

“Elsa, you… you’re…” she wanted to let Elsa know, but she couldn’t complete her statement, because in that moment Elsa curled her finger _exactly so_ and it was Maren’s undoing.

She arched off the couch completely this time, the weight of her lower half entirely supported by Elsa’s shoulders now as she dug her heels into Elsa’s back. She threw her head back, her cry coming out as a pathetic whimper as the waves of pleasure and love and emotions quite literally stole her breath away.

When she collapsed back down on the couch, it was to find Elsa panting hard and fast, breath hitting her intimately in hot spurts, as Elsa rested her forehead against Maren’s pubic bone. The pale shoulders under Maren’s thighs were trembling, as the fingers digging into her calves clenched and unclenched unsteadily. Maren recognised the all-too familiar signs. She just didn’t expect to see that after what they had done.

“ _Fuck,_ Elsa, did you just come?” Maren gaped at Elsa.

Elsa let out a breathy laugh, as she nodded clumsily between Maren’s legs, “ye-yeah… with you.”

“You weren’t even touching yourself.”

“It was… well…” Elsa swallowed, trying to gather her wits, “well, you. It was you. I was with you. Because. You.”

Hot. Hot. Hot.

_Fuck._

Maren wanted to scream. Elsa. Damn Elsa. Elsa just _loved_ with all her heart, and Maren didn’t know if she was going to survive being constantly on the receiving end of such an intense love.

The thought of Elsa coming just from touching Maren was enough to reignite her desire again, in spite of everything. Her wife was just. Yeah.

“Elsa, you’re going to be the death of me, you know?”

Elsa had the cheek to give a shy giggle, after everything she just put Maren through, and Maren’s arousal soared, so she none-too-gently pulled Elsa up from the floor to drag her into a hug.

Smoothly, she rolled them around so she was on top, staring hungrily down at Elsa.

“Bedroom, now.”

Elsa arched an eyebrow, challenging Maren as she bit back a smirk. She ran a finger along Maren’s cut lip delicately.

“No hands or no lips, Maren, remember? What the hell do you think you’ll get to do?”

Maren was undeterred as she smirked back.

“We have that drawer by our bed and it’s full of inspiration, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all these months, still nervous when a smutty chapter is uploaded. Fun to write, anxiety-inducing to post. Gotta admit, the premise to this one with Maren's injuries were several chapters in the making. Whenever Maren gets hurt, I think to myself, where would be the worst place I can make that happen, from Elsa's perspective? Can't believe I plan my plot around how to make the explicit chapters extra spicy. Hehehe  
> Anyway, thanks always for the wonderful support and have fun!


	9. Good Cop Bad Cop – Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, part 1. The plot is moving as slowly as 2020 feels. There’s so many little moments of the trio that I want to write (that doesn’t serve the narrative). So indulge me.
> 
> Cheers!  
> Blackthorn

**Day 8. Saturday Morning. Elsa’s POV.**

“Are you ready, Tarzan?” Elsa asked the little boy already bouncing up and down in his cot.

Tarzan was all decked out in what Elsa had called “people clothes” in her head, finally out of those dehumanising hospital pajamas and into a smart set of shirt and trousers Maren had bought him.

Tarzan wasn’t used to clothes yet, and in the orphanage had protested enough to allow the staff to let him be shirtless most times. But somehow, they had managed to coax him into the sunny yellow polo shirt this morning. Perhaps it was because Elsa and Maren were in matching yellow tops. Elsa appreciated fashion and thought this was tacky as hell, but it was Maren’s idea so she yielded. She hated to admit that Maren was right in this. The matching clothes seemed to be working on Tarzan, and he was more than happy to don a shirt today.

The socks and shoes were a no-go, though. No matter how much they cooed to him and distracted him, he just fought back with vigour, nearly earning Maren another kick to the face in the process of trying to dress him. The professor guessed it had something to do with being more agile barefoot. He did seem very capable of gripping the bars of the cot with his toes. They decided to let him win some battles and gave the shoes a rest.

They lowered his cot and before Elsa could scoop him out he had already climbed up her and settled against her chest, very at home with this position in the past week they had spent together.

“You’re like his personal tree,” Maren observed.

Elsa had never wanted to be a plant until that day.

The moment they got outside though, the reference lost its meaning as Tarzan caught sight of the real deal. He pointed at the apple tree by the orphanage’s entrance and cheered, squirming and wiggling in Elsa’s hold until she bent down to release him. He crawled towards the tree with surprising speed considering he was on three limbs due to his cast.

Elsa and Maren followed him to the tree, watching as he clambered round and round the base of the tree.

“And now there’s mud on his new shirt. Why did you pick yellow?”

“Elsa. Try to be less… _you…_ about all this,” Maren said, “let him live a little. He hasn’t been outside in weeks.”

“Fine. But you’re doing laundry.”

“Would you have preferred it if I chose a camouflage print? The stains would be less visible but let me remind you, I would have made you wear it too.”

“Ugh.”

If they weren’t so busy quarrelling they would have noticed it earlier, but when they saw him run behind the tree and didn’t come back around they hurried to the back of the tree immediately, only to see that Tarzan was already halfway up it.

“TARZAN!” Elsa exclaimed, as they both rushed forwards.

He was on the lowest branch now, clinging onto the tree with just his legs as his good hand reached out towards an apple. Before Elsa could even fully register the sight before her, Maren was somehow already on the branch right behind him, her hands quickly wrapping around his waist to steady him.

And for all the teasing Elsa gave Maren in their childhood for being too competitive about climbing trees, she finally saw the value in having a wife who could do it so quickly. She heaved a sigh of relief as she felt her heartbeat slow back down. Maren was with him. She could breathe now, even if they were both two meters off the ground.

“Get him down, Maren.”

“Hold on a minute. I think he’s got it.”

“Maren!”

Maren didn’t budge as she kept a watchful eye on Tarzan, leaning forward with him as he grappled with the fruit. He let out a squeak when he succeeded in plucking it, crawling _backwards_ on the branch until he was snuggled into Maren.

“Wow,” was all Elsa managed to say.

“Elsa, this is so cool. He can’t even walk that well yet and he just did _that._ This kid is amazing.”

“Yes, but can the both of you come down now? It’s making me nervous.”

She chanced a glance at the orphanage and saw Professor Porter and his colleagues watching them closely, scribbling furiously onto clipboards.

“They are watching,” Elsa murmured, trying not to move her lips too much.

“We’ve got this. They can see. We’re adapting to him, continuing to let him be himself, but safely.”

“Maren… please.”

“Okay, okay.”

It seems Tarzan hadn’t learnt to climb _down_ trees, the task seeming to be more complicated than climbing up. Maren held him to the trunk but he didn’t catch on, kicking away from it to sit back on the branch. Eventually, he did get the message that Maren wanted to go back down and he climbed up her instead, wrapping around her back tightly. She laughed and nodded at him, before making her way down the tree, a tiny human backpack clinging onto her.

Tarzan swung round to her front when they reached the ground, looking completely unfazed by what should have been a traumatising experience for any toddler, as he rearranged himself to settle snugly in Maren’s arms.

“Fascinating!”

Even from a distance they could hear the professor’s signature catchphrase.

“That… that was…” Elsa stuttered, taking deep breaths to calm herself, “okay, that… that cannot happen again. All eyes on him. Always.”

Maren laughed.

“Relax, Elsa. We’ll figure it out as we go alo-”

“No. Stop. Look, I am really grateful you’re so quick and always there for him in time. But just because you caught him both times, that day on my shoulders and now up in that tree, doesn’t mean you get to be cocky. This weekend has to go well. No more near-misses. We can’t afford it.”

Maren sobered up, registering Elsa’s serious demeaner and nodding back solemnly.

“Right. Gosh, you’re absolutely right. No more fooling around. Let’s do this.”

She looked down at Tarzan.

“Are you going to behave, young man?” Maren asked him.

Tarzan ignored her, distracted by his fruit. He gnawed at his apple, unable to sink his teeth into the smooth surface. He thrust the apple at Elsa. It was covered in spit.

“Umm,” Elsa said.

“I think he wants you to start biting into the apple for him,” Maren explained, a smirk growing on her face.

Maren knew how much of a germaphobe Elsa could be. Elsa just stared at the fruit.

“He’s going to be your son, Elsa. Don’t be weird about it.”

Elsa took the apple, gulped nervously at how _slimy_ it was, and bit into it. The skin was wet with the boy’s saliva. Gross.

Tarzan reached for it immediately after he saw she had succeeded. She handed the apple back to him. He emitted another happy squeak before nibbling at his apple, teeth sinking successfully this time into the bite that Elsa had started for him.

Maren chuckled.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Elsa grumbled at the both of them.

“Immensely. He’s making you do things I could never.”

Elsa finally saw the humour in the situation, and laughed with Maren. Secretly she was proud that she could, in her small way, _provide_ for Tarzan. It was a strange, new, feeling, but a very welcome one.

“Let’s just go home,” Elsa said.

-

By the time they got to their car, Tarzan’s new shirt was ruined (by Elsa’s standards). Apple juice was dribbling down the front to mingle with the mud as the boy continued to munch ineffectively on his fruit. Elsa had to admit that despite the mess, it was an adorable sight.

She decided against mentioning how the juice and the mud was going to be horrible for their car, especially since she had just brought it back from the cleaner’s last week, knowing Maren would make fun of her if she brought it up. She laughed to herself as she thought about how true what Maren said was, about the things Elsa was letting slide just for Tarzan. No one was allowed to eat in Elsa’s car, but the noisy munching from the kid her wife was carrying was evidence that the rule was about to be broken.

She reached for her keys to unlock the car and was just getting into the driver’s seat when she noticed Maren hesitating by the door.

“Elsa?” Maren asked, “Do you think I could just carry him on the ride home?”

“What?”

Elsa studied Maren’s expression. It took a while for her to register it, for it looked so unfamiliar on someone like Maren. Elsa realised it was fear. And Maren wasn’t afraid of anything.

“I thought we went through how to use the new car seat yesterday?” Elsa asked gently, “Kristoff brought us through the buckles and the safety features and all that.”

“Yes, well, uh… it’s only occurring to me now that he might struggle. More than your niece yesterday I mean.”

Elsa laughed.

“That’s what the seat belt is for.”

“Right.”

“Maren, the car seat’s safer. Besides, it’s the law. Let’s not become criminals on our first weekend with a kid, shall we?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Maren’s voice was unnaturally high, “okay then. We’re going in.”

Her hand paused on the door handle, and Elsa heard her whisper to Tarzan, “kid, I’m so sorry. Again.”

And the truth hit Elsa finally.

“Maren?”

Maren looked up hopefully, “yeah?”

“Why don’t you drive home. I’ll handle Tarzan.”

“What? No! I’m good. Really,” Maren tried to laugh, “I mean what’s the difference, you or me? And since I’m already carrying him…”

“Maren, it’s fine. You shouldn’t have to be the bad cop again.”

Elsa knew that the incident with the IV plug had affected Maren way more than she was letting on.

And Maren realised Elsa saw right through her fears. She groaned.

“This is so pathetic, isn’t it? He cries in my face that one time and now I can’t even do something so simple.”

“Maren, don’t. You’re doing great with Tarzan. We just need to get through this as a team alright? And I say it’s my turn to tackle this. No arguments.”

Elsa shoved the keys into Maren’s fist, transferring the sticky, muddy boy into her arms and climbing into the backseat before Maren could protest. Tarzan was none the wiser, happy to rest comfortably against Elsa as she carried him into the car.

His ignorance was short-lived, and he soon caught on when Elsa deposited him in the baby seat, and he started to shriek as Elsa wrestled with him to get a belt buckle over one of his shoulders.

It was much, much, worse than when they practised this with Leia last night. Tarzan was kicking and screaming, his tiny feet battering against Elsa’s stomach with hard thumps that echoed inside the car.

“Tarzan, oof!, Tarz-… please,” was all Elsa said, but she persisted, and eventually with steady, unyielding force, she secured the child into the seat.

The door on the other side of the backseat opened, and Maren peeked in, looking scared and lost.

“I’m here. What can I do?”

“It’s done, he’s in,” Elsa shouted over Tarzan.

Tarzan was still screaming, his back arched out of the seat as far as the tight belt would let him, face beet red with the effort of his cries.

“Spirits,” Maren looked at the child helplessly.

“What are you doing standing out there, Maren?” Elsa indicated at the empty driver’s seat in front, “Drive!”

The screaming child was starting to get to Elsa too. It was going against all her instincts to keep Tarzan locked like that in a seat when he was obviously in distress.

“Right, right!” Maren remembered.

She slammed the door and hurried to the front seat, climbing in and starting the engine. As they pulled out of the orphanage driveway, Elsa leaned over the car seat to try and soothe Tarzan. He growled and threw his apple at her.

Elsa ducked and the fruit hit the front windshield.

“What was that?” Maren exclaimed, hearing the apple core hit glass.

“It’s nothing, keep driving.”

“Tarzan, it’s just going to be a short while, alright? And then you can come out,” Elsa tried to keep her voice as calm and peaceful as possible.

He lurched forward, snapping his teeth at her, trying to look menacing. When Elsa didn’t back down, he wailed louder in protest, arms and legs flailing.

And then he started the head banging. Frustrated that he wasn’t released yet, he launched himself forwards, before slamming the back of his head against the headrest of his car seat.

“Tarzan!” Elsa yelped, shocked.

Tarzan managed to bang his head one more time before Elsa reacted, grabbing his head between her hands as she tried her best to still him.

She leaned over to kiss his hair as she held him in place.

“Don’t do that, baby, please.” Elsa had tears in her eyes now, “just a short while more, I promise.”

“What? What did he do? Elsa!”

Maren was panicking too, as she had also heard the thuds amidst the screaming and the crying. She spun round in her seat.

“Eyes on the road, Maren,” Elsa ordered when she saw Maren look behind, pleased to hear her voice was still calm, “Just get us home.”

Nothing Elsa said or did was working, so Elsa had to just stay put, hands on either side of Tarzan’s head, tiny feet striking repeatedly against her chest, and take it, as Tarzan bawled in her face. The sight of their apartment building as Maren rounded the final corner had never been so welcome.

“We’re here, we’re here!” Maren exclaimed.

The moment the car parked, Elsa hit the release button on the buckles and she didn’t know who was more eager; Tarzan launching himself out of the seat or her pulling him into a tight hug. He clung onto her desperately, his howling turning into whimpers as he finally calmed down. Elsa could hear how hoarse his voice had become from all the screaming.

He hiccuped, and then promptly vomited all down Elsa’s back and the freshly cleaned leather seats of the car. So much for keeping the car in pristine condition.

Maren unbuckled her own seatbelt and turned to face Elsa, her face ashen.

“Okay. So….” Maren began, “that was an experience…”

Elsa continued to pat Tarzan’s back until he stopped retching, before rearranging him so he could curl into a more comfortable position in front of her. He had her shirt balled up into his good fist, to ensure that she could not let him go again.

“We need to speak to Porter on Monday,” Elsa said, wiping her face to realise it was wet from her own tears, “the car seat routine definitely needs to be worked on at Tarzan’s next therapy session.”

“For sure. Did he hurt himself?”

“I don’t think so. But he’s traumatised.”

Elsa and Maren exchanged an equally traumatised glance to match the boy’s.

“Not off to a good start then, are we?” Maren sighed.

“No. But we did it. We brought him home safely. One step at a time.”

Maren nodded at Elsa’s words, determined, “You’re right. One step at a time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. And they haven’t even made it home to start the homestay. To echo Anna, “Tarzan is not easy.” 
> 
> And Good Cop Bad Cop will be the theme of the homestay weekend, because Tarzan obviously has a favourite.


End file.
